Weyard's Flight
by Tirfarthuan
Summary: Infinite volumes of water flow off the edge of Gaia Falls. Weyard is a world with no foundation. Knowledge is preserved in enclaves. One being connects all these facts. A story of saving the world... and what happens afterwards.
1. Chapter 1: Beginnings

Chapter 1: Beginnings

"Why are you here?"

The collapsing cavern rumbled, floor cracking open to allow magma to rise up from its depths.

"Why not?" The man languidly remarked, as the first stalactite shattered itself against the fracturing foundations. "This is interesting. Stories like this don't happen all the time. The end of one age and the birth of another." The man smiled.

It wasn't the smile he once had had, back when he was young. No longer a cocky, infuriating smirk, his smile was now the calm, satisfied, self-assured smile of a man secure in his strength, no longer in need of posturing. He was the best, after all.

"This is not the end of an age. The lighthouses will not be lit. The Golden Sun will not rise. Isaac and Garet will prevent the return of alchemy, as I have instructed them."

The man looked the Wise One in its quasi-organic eye, raising an eyebrow.

"They cannot fail," the Wise One asserted.

"They will choose to restore alchemy for the sake of all that they love. You know that, and you must accept it, Wise One," he stated.

"Mankind will destroy themselves if the lighthouses are lit. You, more than anyone else, know this," the Wise One retorted. "Time after time it happens, yet they never learn. How many times has the world been destroyed by power-hungry fools? Even you have failed to teach them."

"There are good ones too. Like Isaac. And the lighthouses will be lit, because heroes give their enemies a chance to explain themselves. They will decide to believe in the people of this world and in their ability to mitigate evil. If they weren't going to choose that path… you wouldn't have chosen them. They would be the wrong heroes."

The Wise One met the black-haired man's eyes (eyes so blue, so tired, one who looks so young should not have such eyes). Even as the chamber rumbles and the fire rose a susurrus lay upon the two. The Wise One looked away.

"We shall see," it said.

"You know it is the truth. Don't think I missed that little trick you pulled with the Mars Star." The man turned and walked away from the protector, over the cracked ground. Coming to a halt, he meditated upon the glow of the rocky plasma.

"Need help with Alex?" He chuckled. "No… that should be alright. But do you want any help with this? Exploding mountains are something I have a good deal of experience with."

The Wise One gave the man's back a blank stare. "…I believe I will handle Mt. Aleph myself." It summoned its aura, psynergy pulsing across the surface of its spherical, rocky form.

The platform the man stood upon shuddered, its base unable to resist the lava's heat any longer. The dark-haired male sighed, and hopped to another, more stable, surface. He prepared to leave. The Wise One, however, had more to 'say'.

"…Do not interfere," it 'spoke' with its telepathy. "…This is not a test of your power, your decisions, or anything involving you. This is for the people of this world, this age, and this is a test of their willingness and ability to fight together for the fate of this world. This is about Isaac, Felix, and their comrades. Not you."

"I know."

It was not as much a whisper as the thought of a whisper. For a moment, the very air seemed to weep with sorrow and longing.

"Sometimes… you have to give heroes a chance to be heroes, right?"

"I am sorry," the Wise One murmured in reply.

"This is about humans, however humane they may, or may not, be." His words resonated with the stirring bones of the world. "And in too many ways, I am no longer human."

"No longer representative, perhaps," it answered quickly. "But you choose to be human, and so you are."

Glancing down at the rising flames, the man did not respond. The Wise One continued.

"…You already know that. And you do not need to be so subtle in your rebukes."

"Heh. Fair enough," the man acknowledged, responding to the Wise One's glance.

"You only have a short time left until the weight you bear is lightened. One way… or another." It seemed to sigh, closing its eye.

By the time the Wise One opened its eye again, the man was long gone.


	2. Chapter 2: Imil

Chapter 2: Imil

Wind swirled lazily through the town, adding an annoying but not dangerous bite to the already cold day. It was snowing of course. It is always snowing in Imil, it seems, although in reality it would be more precise to say that it is always snowy in Imil. But at the moment it is both snowy and snowing in Imil.

As shadows, long and bleak as any shadow is in wintry light, grew longer as night fell, turning cold day to colder night, the village changed. Fireplaces burned bright, candles lit shadowy corners, and families gathered together to share warmth and light and heat and love. But three things remained the same.

The first was the silence. Only the crunch of an occasional footfall disturbed the quiet, muffled silence of a world besieged by snowflakes. The villagers did not speak this night. They simply worried, hoped and prayed, and they held their loved ones close.

None despaired, and that was due to the second constant, the girl. No – a girl no longer, although not yet a woman. Tired from mental and physical exertion, her head was still held up high, she was still ceaselessly moving from one home to the next. To a less experienced observer she would appear a fountain of boundless strength, but the blue-haired Mercury adept was overworked. Flesh wounds and broken bones are relatively simple matters in comparison to the illness the young healer was fighting. She can use her power to bolster strength and heal internal wounds, she can mix syrups and tinctures, but a purely healing power is not an effective force to wield against microorganisms.

The third was our observer, who watched the snow and the silence and the shadows. She was patience, she was unmovable, she did not need to step in and save this foolish doctor, this young, tired, medic…

…who was now in a snow drift, unconscious.

The woman sighed. She had never had much luck on Mondays.

-tempusfugit-

Mia awoke to warmth, and the smell of herbal tea. Sitting up groggily, she looked around her house blearily and then proceeded over to the fireplace and the tea that she had left simmering last night.

She stopped, and frowned, trying to grasp what was wrong with that statement. Accepting a cup of tea from the flame-haired woman, Mia murmured a word of thanks and sat down at the table. Absently noting the exotic smell of the drink she took a sip.

Instantly, liquid fire erupted inside her brain, flashing down her spine and firing every nerve in her body. Coughing and sputtering, the suddenly awake water adept could not even speak. Hurling away the horrific concoction, she stared in shock at the evil woman who had tricked her into consuming such poison.

"What- You- How- Why!"

The redhead smoothly caught the wooden cup without so much as batting an eye, and with a saccharine smile she sat down at the table, placing the miraculously unspilled drink in front of Mia. Leaning forward, the woman with hair that glowed like embers waited for Mia to finish before she finally spoke.

"So, child, can you tell me what you have learned from this experience?"

"Child! I'll have you know that-"

"Yes, yes," the woman cut her off with smooth skill. "I know, you are no longer a little girl, but rather a responsible woman, right? Now stop reacting and start thinking. Do you remember what happened last night?" said the woman with red hair and blue eyes, destroying Mia's complaints first with willpower and then a gentle, soothing kindness.

"Last night? What do you mean?" Mia, relaxed in the comforting aura that seemed to fill the room, considered the question. "Well, I finished doing my last check-up of the night, and I…"

"…Ended up unconscious in the snow in the middle of the night because you overworked yourself."

For a moment there was silence. The woman sighed and fixed her gaze upon the Mercury Adept.

"You have a responsibility to these people. You are to heal their wounds, to fight off illnesses at any moment. You are the only healer here." Her wise eyes glared at the enraptured blue-haired girl. "Drink that medicine! Drink and listen! You are the only member of you clan here. Nobody else can cast ply or even employ herbal medicine. That means that if you get sick, if you break your leg, if you collapse after working for three days straight then people can die."

Mia winced, but the older woman was not done yet.

"You have to treat yourself as one your patients. If you don't think that one of your patients should be working on sheer willpower for a week without sleep, then you shouldn't do it either! If you don't look after yourself, there is nobody to look after Imil in the midst of a medical emergency."

Mia hung her head, embarrasses beyond words. She should have known that, she had been taught that. This young woman, with locks of fire and eyes the age and tint and wisdom of oceans, was right. She had failed in her duty.

"Other than that you have done rather well."

Mia raised her head in surprise to see the woman smiling kindly at her. "Your knowledge of herbs is good, and you have kept all of your patients alive and well with nothing more than the weakest of your clan's healing techniques. Now, on to business!"

Mia blinked, blindsided by the apparent segway.

The redhead cheerfully reached under the table and pulled out a variety of books, manuscripts, scrolls and pamphlets. Examining each briefly, she placed a dozen or so on the table in front of Mia and put the rest back.

"I don't have much use for money," chirped the woman, "but I would be interested in trading for some supplies and inventory."

"'Traditional Chinese Medicine: A Study in Acupuncture,' 'Herb Lore and You: Healing with Poisons,' 'Bloodloss Prevention for Dummies?'" Mia gave the woman a questioning look, and then took a cautious look at a thick tome entitled 'Field Surgery: 10,001 Situations.'

"I don't sell wares, I sell knowledge," said the woman with a smile. "I figured this would also interest you!" she remarked, an evil glint in her eyes, as she handed Mia one of the thin, hide-bound, booklet-sized ones.

"'Birth Control and Midwifery!'" Mia yelped, face burning as bright as her tormentor's hair.

"Any pretty young girl your age should be prepared!" said the woman with a wink. "I have no doubt that you will need to know about such things eventually, so just give it a look for now and put it somewhere safe for future reference."

Mia shoved the devilish item between two treatises on… navigation? Pushing down her blush, she looked at the other female in confusion. "Why are you-"

The redhead was no longer seated at the table, but rather over by the fireplace, ladling something into an assortment of cups and flasks.

"That should do for a few days!" the woman proclaimed. "Give it to your patients at least once a day, but no more than two flasks worth every 12 hours. So no excuses for not getting your rest!" she lectured.

"But what-"

"No excuses! I'll have to leave now, but I want you to finish that drink and remember what I told you or the next cure I feed you WILL be worse than the disease – or more accurately, your foolishness!" Launching a steady stream of words, the flame-crowned woman was halfway towards the door before Mia managed to get a word in edgewise.

"Wait! I haven't paid you anything for these!" Desperate for some reason she could not fully explain, Mia strove to prevent the woman from leaving. "I can't just take your books and your help for free!"

Pausing in the doorway, the woman flashed Mia a grin. "I got paid. Shelter, food, company... that was my payment." Seeing Mia's look of protest, she let out a peal of laughter.

The laughter like crystal chimes. It held the music of a thousand bells, flutes echoing in cold mountain air, babbling brooks and whispering winds and the sound of the sea. It was all rumbling earth and blooming flowers and it crackled in the pleasant manner of a fire on a cold winter night.

"Child, gold shines, but those three things are all that I need. Love as well of course, but that is not payment!" She turned and left Mia with one more parting thought.

"Love is its own price and its own reward! Remember that, girl!"

"But you didn't even tell me your name!" Mia cried out, into the snowy Imil morning.

Her only answer was laughter, floating on the breeze.

A week later, the Mercury Lighthouse was adorned with cyan fires. When she packed her bag to accompany a group of adepts seeking to prevent the lighting of the Elemental Lighthouses, she brought the books with her.

Even the little one.


	3. Chapter 3: Spirits of Venus

Chapter 3: Spirits of Venus

Peace was wrapped around the woodland. This place was a bastion of life, filled with so much pure nature that you could almost smell it. This was a sacred place.

"Cute kids, aren't they?" the man said.

It was not a common thoroughfare. No mere mortals came here for trivial purposes, especially not after the recent events. The man was not dissuaded by such things, however, and was intent on having a conversation. And, apparently, this did not bother the other member of the discussion in the slightest.

"I am not sure that 'cute' is the right word. 'Powerful' perhaps," rumbled Tret, the forest king. "Certainly they are young, innocent, and idealistic, if that is what you mean."

"Their power does not change their age, Tret," rustled Laurel. "Although I must admit that it is capable of doing so."

"Not true," dismissed the man, "that kind of power can prevent aging to various extents, but it can't actually change it."

"My power allows me to turn humans into trees," Tret noted. "Surely a change of physical form is possible without a change in species."

The man shot Tret a dry look.

"Naturally," he said, "but it is not within an adept's powers to do so. It is not a difference in strength or even skill, but rather one of types of power. As a spirit, even one with a physical form, you possess capabilities that are beyond them, although your powers are far more specialized."

Tret did not respond immediately, nor did Laurel, who was swiftly getting the impression that 'she' (if plants can truly be assigned genders) was quickly getting into the realm of esoteric (meaning irrelevant to everyday life) knowledge which even a tree as old as herself could find no interest in.

On the other hand, Tret pondered the man's claim and after a minute or two he agreed.

"My true strengths lie in guidance, healing and control of the flora of this region," the Great Tree said. "Applying that power to other beings is a capability I received from the psynergy stone."

"By its very nature, psynergy is a power of the mind," the dark-haired man stated. "While an adept can only manipulate certain things, depending on what elemental forces they are connected with, the manipulation's extent is limited only by raw power, willpower, and imagination. You are strongly bound with life itself, so the control of the nature of the lives of beings within your domain is within your power as long as their souls' strength is weaker than your power."

"So if Tret practiced, he would be able to transform beings into shapes other than trees…" Laurel mused, unable to resist being drawn into the conversation. A Waelda's thirst for knowledge is perhaps the only thing that matches the wisdom they gain with age.

"Just don't expect it to be able to do anything. Changing an old man into a young girl won't keep them from dying from old age. Transforming someone won't heal a stab wound – you have to use a healing technique. It's hard to explain why with words, but suffice it to say that, law of unintended consequences aside, you can change what someone is, but not who they are. The mind and the soul are not changeable at the snap of your fingers."

Tret and Laurel gave the man, who was sitting on a branch on a non-sapient tree, a look. Slightly embarrassed the man apologized.

"Heh… I meant 'rustle of your leaves.' My bad!"

Laurel slowly let her thoughts distill before responding.

"You know… and unusual amount about this. Even for someone in your… unique… situation."

"…Let's just say that it is experience. It used to be a kind of specialty of mine, dealing with the problems that such magic created."

Laurel's strangely smooth and feminine bark 'face' showed visible confusion. 

"'Magic?'" she queried. "What is 'magic'?"

A strange look passed over the man's face and something that neither of the elders could comprehend flickered within his eyes like Saint Elmo's fire. After a moment of silence, he replied.

"Magic breaks the rules. Where psynergy bends reality, magic breaks it, following no laws but its own. Magic… is a dead power. The domain of gods and their children."

The man paused once more, seeming to search for the appropriate words.

"Once upon a time, or so the stories tell," the man Spoke, voice echoing oddly, "the gods imbued artifacts, places, even men with that power. But the gods are dead, the power dispersed, and the artifacts have crumbled to dust. Magic is as dead as the gods."

"There is one left, 'or so the stories tell,'" Tret rustled, raising a section of bark that could be considered an eyebrow, "though the healers in their sanctums have no name for their goddess. And there were survivors of the Fall, although they distance themselves."

"Best not to say such things!" the man chuckled wryly. "If I didn't know that you aren't serious I might be offended!"

Laurel looked befuddled at the two males, barely able to comprehend the random shifting of topics.

"Besides," the man sighed, "speaking directly to a person, even if it is just to say 'hey, my name is so-and-so' never just ends with that. Any time that happened in the past you got a religious leader. Or an oracle. Or a prophet. Remember what I told you about Skuld's little 'intervention'? Nothing like a little out of control religion to cause a lot of death and destruction."

"Skuld?" murmured Laurel, but the man continued without any sign of having heard her.

"And the others? What can you say about them?" the man scoffed… bitterly? No, not bitterness, but something else, something Laurel could not find words for. Sorrow and nostalgia and pain and despair and irony all wrapped up in lost wishes… what was the word for that?

"One valkyrie," the man continued. "The goddess of flowers, who spends all of her time trying to keep the winds under control. Boreas is a mindless behemoth, no longer capable of independent thought. Thor is a shadow of an image of a reflection of an illusion of his former self in many ways, if not in regards to power! Coatlicue never succeeded in healing her own broken heart, and refuses all offers of help. A golem, the ghost of a mage, a handful of monsters, several dragons, some Greater Spirits, and a few Entities of Power. I will admit that I'm impressed by Iris, she has gone a long way from being one of the weakest Gods, but she can barely keep up with the running of the underworld, even with Charon's help."

"Yes," Tret mused, "the goddess of rainbows has given her all to her work as a guide of souls… leaving only one greater being available to directly tend to humanity. Truly, it must be a lonely vigil."

"It's not too bad. After all, even in an age such as this, such a being would have no difficulty finding things to do. After all, 'the world is but a stage' and there is a very special performance in progress." The man smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"You have grown much more talkative in your old age, friend," Tret responded. "And yet you are so much more ambiguous."

"Hey, don't call me old until I manage it!" the man, who appeared to at MOST be in his late 20s, answered with mock hurt. "Besides," he said, reaching behind his head with one arm to tug on his pigtail, looking somewhat embarrassed, "if no one who doesn't already know the story can understand enough to ask question, I have fewer explanations to hand out."

"Avoiding the issue?"

"Perish the thought! It's merely useful for my 'all-knowing teacher' mystique."

"So you are still scattering the seeds of knowledge. Have any taken root?"

"A few. The Fuchin and Lama temples teach of 'Ki' and 'Chi' although their understanding is basic and muddled. Same with the Kandoorean temple. Knowledge of the healing arts is readily obtainable, but, again, understanding is limited. Not to mention that it has been hundreds of years since the last decent surgeon. There's and impressive blacksmith in Yallam and some good miners in Loho and off in the pass between Xian and the Lama temple. It's unfortunate, but alchemy is pretty much a lost art at this point. Even Vale and Tolbi only have minor comprehensions of the forces at work. All of the alchemy machines are dormant, which is fortunate in some cases and unfortunate in others. And I can't remember the last time I saw a library outside of Lemuria."

The man's expression then brightened considerably.

"There has been a recent piece of honest-to-goodness advancement that only required minimal encouragement. Sailing by wind-power has been rediscovered, and Alhafra is well on the way to building the first masted ship in generations."

"Are you a scholar, then?" interjected Laurel, latching onto the only plausible theory that he had never truly contradicted. It irked 'her' that she still had yet to get the man to sit down and regale 'her' with his life's story when Tret had obviously been brought in on all of the secrets.

It also irked her that Tret consistently refused to answer any questions about the man. Honestly, if she did not have to protect the forest (a venture that required her to work together with her 'male' ally for such a large region of land) she would be giving him the cold shoulder for his obtuseness.

"Not by design," the man admitted, "but I have found a niche for myself as a teacher and a guide, and it is hard to teach what you do not know."

A rumbling briefly came from the west, where Mt. Aleph still smoldered. The man twitched. Tret, seeing this, would have smirked, were he not a sacred tree, a wise, solemn forest king.

It would, however, be fair to say that his 'eyes' twinkled and that his 'mouth' maneuvered itself into an upward curve.

"Odd that it still burns. Normally such volcanic activity would have ended by now," Tret calmly pondered, without any audible amusement.

"The old Cyclops said it'd manage, and I know that no one is being endangered by the lava flows. And I know that it is best to let it do things alone, allow it to reaffirm its capability to fulfill its purpose and all that. But still…" The man trailed off in annoyance, wishing visibly that his logic was flawed.

"…All it has to do is ask, correct?" Tret completed. "But, although it will not say such a statement as this so bluntly, the Wise One worries about you. It wishes you to conserve your strength. This has been taxing upon you, and the coming storm will be more taxing still. Already, one lighthouse burns with cold fire."

"I know."

"While the restoration of Mercury resolves the most obvious difficulty caused by Gaia Falls, the imbalance of the elements will make other troubles far more strenuous. With so much at stake, it is best to be careful."

"I know. That's not the problem. But… while I am certainly happy that the water cycle now is a complete circle again due to the lighthouse and will return the water that rushes over Gaia Falls, I can't stop thinking about that truth…"

He trailed of, glaring at something over the horizon.

"I have to go," the man said abruptly. "Shall I pass word of your recovery to Cybele?"

"And send Mother my love, would you?" Tret agreed readily.

"Of course, friend," smiled the man distractedly. "I wish you luck in the days to come. To you also, Laurel."

And then he was gone, racing through the trees.

-tempusfugit-

It was quite some time before Laurel's voice broke the silence of the woods.

"Tret… what is 'that truth'?" She rustled.

For a time there was no answer, but even a Waelda as 'young' as Laurel has boundless patience.

"What goes up…"

The sun's glow faded into the mountains.

"…Must come down."

Darkness fell.


	4. Chapter 4: Revelations

Chapter 4: Revelations

In a land far to the North, a scout breathed a sigh of relief. The Mars Lighthouse still stood. Hope remained. The man turned towards home.

In the distance, the rift gaped. The edge of the world glowed with unknown fire.

-tempusnonfugit-

The master of the temple sat in the middle of the room, meditating. His time drew near. He had fulfilled his purpose.

Around him, the world continued. He could feel it all now, sense the life that flowed through everything. This, then, was 'Chi.' So beautiful…

It was strange, mused the old man, that after a lifetime of studying Ki he should be struck by the wonder of something which he had seen every day, the pulse life within every living being. Ironic that he would be more impressed by the ostensibly 'limited' power of Chi than by the supposedly limitless power of the mind. Perhaps, if the Fuchin and Lama Temples combined their knowledge, something greater still would be born.

"You understand now, at least a little."

Who was speaking? He turned his inner eye to the task, but there were no visitors. He was alone in the room. The young ones were already long gone.

"When a being becomes so close to oneness, they can see a great many things."

It was a pity, he supposed, that he could no longer speak. Not in this state.

"'Ki' and 'Chi' are not such differing powers as you suppose. They are two sides of the same coin."

There was a sense of… something, he realized. Something Greater, a life-force beyond all others. It lay below him in the earth and above him in the air. Always fleeting on the edges of his perception–

No, that was not it. The presence was easy to sense if you were looking for it, but its vastness made all attempts to comprehend it fail; the seeker would be unable to see the forest for the trees.

"And now you see a little, although you understand even less than you can see. That is good. There are many things in this world that would drive a man insane if they were unfortunate enough to attempt to assimilate too much data at once."

All encompassing? No, it was not that either. While it was all around him, it did not meld with the auras of all of the other life forms that he sensed. It flowed through the world… was this... Weyard? Was this the world itself? Was the very world alive?

"In a way, although not in the way you would think. Or rather, I am not what you think I am, yet perhaps I might do what you think I do. I am less than you believe, but also more. I could be more, but I choose otherwise, and so I am less until I decide the time is here, or, more likely, when it is decided for me and I do not disagree in the necessary manner."

This… Being was apparently amused at his confusion. The man was unsure how to feel about that. On the one hand, amusement was not exactly what he was seeking, but on the other hand there were far worse responses. If the Greater One would explain, then he might, perhaps, understand. But the implication in the obtuseness was that he was not supposed to know, or at least that he would have to figure it out for himself.

"That is not important now. The important question is: what will you do next?"

He would die, of course; he had expected that when he began his meditation and fasting. His body was almost entirely disconnected from hiss self, the brittle husk would not survive for much longer.

"Fight to survive, if you strive to return. If you do not make the attempt I will not force you to do so. It would be a pity, though, if after all of your work your students could not learn from what enlightenment you have found."

Yes, his students. They needed him still. How had he overlooked them? What good was his enlightenment if the next generation could not grasp that torch of illumination?

In shock, the old man reeled backwards from the brink.

"What will you do? Cataclysm draws near. If you return, you will find pain and suffering in the future, one way or another. If you have the strength to face that, then fight."

The time-ravaged master steadied his mental nerves. He suddenly felt tired, weary to his very core. How distant his mortal shell was! How could he reach it? Could he even begin to try?

"Choose."

Choose? What choice was there? There was no hope of success. Trying was beyond pointless! What kind of fool was he to even consider it? Choose? What choice was there? He threw back his astral head and laughed.

The answer was obvious. He would not shrink from it.

The voice seemed to smile. "Choose."

The master of the temple laughed for a long time, within that timeless place. He laughed as he finally understood the difference between surviving and living. He laughed as he understood the importance of hopes and dreams. He laughed as he understood the debt that all men pay, although he knew not what came after. Then, as his death loomed near he chose.

"I choose to fight!" He cried out, filling the ether with a voice he did not know that he had, filled with the joy of living. "I choose to fight for life and all that it brings! I will guide! I will heal! And I will Teach!"

And with that, he flung himself across the abyss.

-tempusfugit-

In Fuchin Temple, a withered man, little more than a mummified skeleton, sat in meditation on the floor of the temple. He was contemplating, trying to reach Nirvana as he sat unmoving, eyes closed in favor of another Sight.

His eyes snapped open.

Nyunpa smiled.


	5. Chapter 5: Of Days Long Passed

Chapter 5: Of Days Long Passed

Circa 2000 AD on the Christian calendar system:

The photographs hit the table with a thud, propelled and accompanied by a calloused hand. The hand left an appreciable dent.

"Explain. Now. No games!"

Damn, Ku Lon thought with a heavy sigh. That would take some work to fix. Why could the child not have damaged something worthless and replaceable, like the coffee pot? But no, it had to be the 500 year old, beautifully varnished table. But no time for griping, she needed to continue her work as a mysterious, evasive, 300 year old matriarch. Well, 300-ish. But who's counting?

"Explain what, 'son-in-law'? You have not even told me what the problem is."

Ranma growled. "Look for yourself, if you want to claim that you haven't already noticed, old ghoul!" the martial artist spat, shoving the photos across the tabletop at the ancient woman.

Ignoring the insult for the moment, Ku Lon picked up the pictures. Raising an eyebrow, she cackled.

"My, aren't you the handsome one!"

Growling again, the aquatransexual was too annoyed to be disgusted by the leering old woman.

"Yes, and exactly the same! Tell me, old ghoul, why have I not aged a day in the last 15 years!"

Questions, questions, always so demanding. Why could none of the brats just stop by for a friendly visit? Oh well, time to divert the kid. Why did he have to look over the albums during the New Year's celebration?

"I am pleased to hear that you have aged well. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

CRACK

And if she had though fixing the table would be costly before…

~Not this time Ku Lon. Talk. Now.~

Mandarin? He was speaking Chinese? So much for stalling, he really was serious. She sighed.

"You succeeded in achieving the level of ki mastery reached by myself and Happosai. Congratulations, 'son-in-law', on your now ridiculously long lifespan."

The martial artist sagged almost imperceptibly. So he already understood the consequences.

"How?" Ranma asked.

"You are alive. Therefore you are not dead. Mastery of your energies exponentially solidifies that idea, until it becomes something akin to 'you are alive, therefore you are not dying'."

Ranma shuddered. "What about the others?" He said with sudden inspiration.

"They have not truly mastered anything. Even now they cannot control their emotions sufficiently to create the Soul of Ice, let alone accept the reality of themselves and create what I like to call 'pure ki', free of emotional focus."

Ranma breathed a sigh of relief. Ku Lon did not comment on it, but really, the boy thought too much of others and not enough of himself. Sort of. He was still proud, still selfish, still petty, still unpolished, still put himself first, but, as always, the moment it really hit the fan, when it wasn't another rival or love interest or just plain annoyance but an honest to goodness danger or Evil (capitals and all)–

"You are full of so much life that you are regenerating your aging cells to their current state constantly. It's a losing battle of course, and the mechanics of it are far beyond my comprehension, but…"

–Well then he was a Warden. He never hesitated to stand between danger and another person, even if the person was his enemy or just a random person he had never seen before in his life. Wait, must pay attention to conversation. Thank you, fellow elders, for teaching me to pay attention to the important things while still navigating a political minefield. Focus! Dementia is for the weak! Where was she?

"…and so you can probably expect a lifespan of at least a millennia, probably more if you keep advancing the Art and growing in strength. You advanced very rapidly, easily outdoing Happi and myself by a good 70 or 80 years, and we have lived more than three times the average human lifespan."

Now he looked depressed. Great. This is the one time where she would prefer him to not understand fully until she was out of range of what that Nabiki girl had called the 'glowing green wrecking ball of despair,' and he already gets it.

Ku Lon hopped over to the counter and began mixing up some tea, studiously ignoring the oppressive silence behind her. The water swiftly came to a boil under the heat of her ki, and she poured two cups. Moving back to the table, she placed one in front of the morose martial artist. She downed half of her cup as Ranma mechanically did the same.

"How do you handle it?" Ranma whispered hoarsely. "Seeing everyone whither around you?"

Ku Lon breathed deeply of the aroma released by the herbal draught, choosing her words carefully.

"Live in the moment for now. Rejoice in the time you spend with your loved ones. After that, live for the sake of the future, for the children. And rejoice in your time with them. In essence, find something, anything, that you care about enough to keep yourself fixed in the present and not lost in your memories. Continue in that way, remembering that you will eventually join them again, even if it takes an age. Eventually even you will become acquainted with the debt that all of us must pay."

Ku Lon then grinned as best she could.

"Also, remember that, if this place grows too painful, there is a nice village in China full of old biddies that live a very long time! Now, how about a stronger drink…"

As she hopped over to the cabinet, she thought of a particularly good proof of the old firewater she had in stock. That would be best. For days like these, nothing else would do.


	6. Chapter 6: Of Dusks Without Dawns

Chapter 6: Of Dusks Without Dawns

Three days before the end:

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Urd, goddess of the past and self-proclaimed goddess of love, winced and exerted a bit of power to create an icepack to hold against her throbbing head. Sure, her power source was alcohol, but enough of her favorite sort of Nectar could still give her a glorious hangover. Besides, the irate mortal was just so da- uh, dratted loud.

"Don't all of you have important things to do? Like, oh, I don't know, fixing this mess!"

"Hah!" boomed Thor groggily. "Fix it? Ragnarok isn't something you can 'fix,' girl! It's inevitabl- URK-"

Urd winced again at the sight of the thunder god embedded in the wall. The redhead was enraged, soaked to the bone by the downpour outside, and strong enough to pick up and throw the 6' 10" warrior god. Admittedly, Thor hadn't particularly been conscious enough to react, but it was a strong first impression of the interloper.

Or was it a first impression? The young woman did look vaguely familiar. Well, she would figure it out eventually. Maybe when the imps inside her head stopped hitting things with their hammers, things would be clearer.

From somewhere off to the left, another guest mumbled something along the lines of 'When did Sif become a mortal?', but Urd ignored them. Sif was gone. It happened a long time ago, way back before the doublet system, if she remembered right. Maybe not, she'd never been the best student. Sif had never come to any of the parties that Urd had attended, and that was a lot of parties. Even her sisters showed up from time to time. So she probably was… gone.

Vaguely, Urd recalled something about Sif and Thor, but it probably wasn't important. What was she thinking about again?

A groan distracted Urd from both the intruder and her thoughts, and Urd turned to her side to find Mara lying on the floor. What was Mara doing here at the shrine? A moment taken to concentrate on that thought revealed the answer. It was an end of the world party, open invitation. Of course Mara had shown up, as well as-

"As much as I am loath to agree with a god, let alone Thor, the muscle-head has a point," Hild drawled in her usual infuriating tone. "If there was another solution, we would have already don it."

-Mother. Oh no. Now this was certain to go badly.

The redhead was now emitting a visibly flaring aura. The teenager fixed scornful eyes on the ruler of Niflheim.

"And so you aren't even going to try! In fact, you're actually responsible for this, you and him! You are pathetic, Hild, giving up already! All of you are!" coldly taking in the assorted celestial and demonic entities, the girl spat out her words. "The mighty gods and omniscient goddesses! The wily demons, capable of finding loopholes in any contract! And you can do nothing?"

It said a lot about the situation that Hild, unshakeable tormentor of fallen souls, actually twitched.

"Yes," Hild growled. "It is hopeless. The world is doomed. Do you understand? We. Can. Do. Nothing."

"Can't? Or won't? If you 'all-powerful' beings won't break a few rules to save over 6 billion lives, then what use are you?"

"Shut your face up about things you don't understand, kid!" Urd snapped. "Who do you think you are to think that you know better than Father?"

"Someone who still knows the difference between surviving and living! Someone who hasn't given up!"

"There's no point in hoping if the end is certain," Hild countered. "This isn't something you can fight! This is the final battle between all that is good and all that is evil in this world! Winner takes the spoils and creates a better world using the principles they proved! This isn't a 99 percent probability of the apocalypse, this is 100 percent certain, unavoidable, predestined, immovable, and ineffable! Go home, Ranma, and spend what time you have before the end with your loved ones."

Yes, that was right, Ranma. Cursed. Extended lifespan – well, if it wasn't for what was about to happen it would be. How old was Ranma now, anyway? 20? 200? Focusing was still too much effort.

"Forget good and evil! If you have no hope and no will to fight for what matters most, then you aren't alive!" Ranma threw back. "You just haven't realized that your hearts have stopped beating!"

Ranma spun around and stalked out of the temple, throwing out a final ultimatum.

"Let the world remember this day as the fall of the gods and the death of the demons! If you want to try to actually make a difference, meet me at the summit of Jusendo on the final hour! Come with me and meet doom in battle at full gallop or wait for the end like the worms you are!"

"Damn that stupid, pigheaded child!" Hild snarled, having at some point stopped reclining and started hovering and generating arcs of lightning. "This is part of the cycle, which all must follow! Foolish, impetuous, insignificant child!" Snatching the back of Mara's shirt, she shook her subordinate awake. "We're leaving!"

Two transports later, they were gone.

The other partygoers quickly dispersed to their respective realms after that, although some had strange looks on their faces.

THUD

Well, most of them quickly dispersed.

Thor's twitching form had fallen out of the indentation it had made and left him face down on the floor. Urd quickly moved over to him and helped him maneuver into a sitting position against the wall. Urd couldn't help but chuckle at his indestructibility- he was already awake. Wait, he was trying to say something.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," Urd prompted.

Taking a deep breath and shaking his head to clear it, the god stared out of the open doorway.

"I think I'm in love…"

Urd's eyebrow twitched. Time to check for a concussion.


	7. Chapter 7: Disadvantages of Second Sight

Chapter 7: The Disadvantages of Second Sight

"Master Hama, there is a traveler here who wishes to speak with you."

Turning her thoughts away from her brother and back to the present, the head of the Lama Temple sighed.

"Very well, send them in."

The initiate returned quickly, ushering a young woman into the room. As the redhead entered, the Jupiter Adept took a moment to scrutinize the new arrival.

She was a pretty girl by all accounts, with beautiful red hair pulled into a ponytail forming a shining river of fire that fell about two-thirds of the way down her back, contrasting nicely with her blue eyes. She was not beautiful in the traditional sense, but the girl had a draw about her that caught the eye. Well, not a girl, not if you looked closely. The absence of baby fat, the underlying hardness of muscle beneath the visitors soft skin, and, above all else, those eyes. Blue eyes. Watchful eyes. Old eyes. She was a Mother and a Crone, somehow fulfilling both roles at the same time. That was a dangerous imbalance; a Maiden would need to be there as well, or…

…Well there was a Maiden in there as well. That was good. But this was all so wrong somehow. She had never given birth, Hama knew that, somehow, with eerie certainty, but she was a Mother, so where were the children? She was young, so how was she a Crone? She was old beyond her youthful looks, and was a Mother, so how could she also be a Maiden? As far as Hama could tell, the woman was not an adept, but there were other powers, and this was obviously one of those that fulfills the rule that Things Come In Threes as the old fortune teller had always used to say while training Hama's Sight.

Except for the elements and the lighthouses. Those came in fours, as did their adepts. There was a dangerous probability of imbalance in the elements. If all four are in equilibrium it is stable enough, but if one is not powerful enough to match the other three… ouch. Not good.

Two was not redundant enough. Four was complicated and hard to balance. Three was just right. And so, given a chance, things would tend to come in Threes.

Turning her attention back to the young child at the door, the adept chided herself for being so fanciful. Where had those thoughts come from? This little girl was not a witch, let alone a Mother or a Crone! Why, she could not be more than twelve years old! Seeing Ivan again had made her fanciful.

"Come and join me for dinner, young one. You look life you have traveled far, and it would be inconceivably rude for me to leave you famished when it would be no trouble at all to speak over a meal," Hama smiled kindly.

"Thank you, Master Hama," chirped the Maiden. "I have a message for you, but it is not so urgent that we must rush," said the old woman, ravaged by time, as she brushed a lock of graying red hair out of her blue eyes.

Hama blinked, clearing her head, before responding. What was the matter with her today? Honestly, if she didn't know that there was absolutely nothing of cosmic importance about the woman before her, she would think that her subconscious mind and Sight were trying to tell her something.

"Are you feeling alright, Master?" asked the red-haired angel. "You look as though you are in pain."

"Oh, I am fine. Nothing but a small headache," the purple-haired seer insisted, studiously ignoring the white wings, corona of light, floating golden halo and harp.

-tempusfugit-

"Are you sure that you aren't sick?" the redhead queried, apparently unaffected by the bruises, the lacerations, the broken right arm, the gaping side wound, or the assortment of arrows, blades, and what appeared to be a pole-arm embedded in her flesh as blood dripped down her form. "You seem to be turning green."

Ivan's sister shuddered, but forced herself to meet the other woman's sunken bloodshot eyes and give false reassurances.

-tempusfugit-

"…And therefore Master Nyunpa will be unable to correspond further for some time…"

Master Hama could only stare at the sight of the messenger, dressed in the regalia of what could only be described as a valkyrie, holding a crumbling object above her whose size defied description.

-tempusfugit-

"…Please convey my hope for his success and safety." Hama said serenely.

She forcefully pushed away the superimposed Yin-Yang image.

"Please, stay the night. I will have a room prepared…"

-tempusfugit-

Hama woke with a gasp, clawing her way out of a nightmare. Trembling, tears dripping off her cheeks, she futilely tried to forget the redhead, the woman's face full of tragedy, sacrifice, loss, and love, terrible love that remained even through the blood, the tears, the pain… The being that protected, preserved, paid the price, and never asked for anything because it never even occurred to the sufferer that it deserved better, that it shouldn't have come to this…

The descendent of the Anemos cried herself to sleep, wishing once again that she had not been born with the power that overran her, that passed over her barriers and drowned her in a tide of Knowing…

-tempusfugit-

The two women exchanged bows at the edge of the temple grounds. The redhead, wearing a white overcoat of some variety stained by strange substances, focused on a glass vial through her protective glasses as she turned to leave.

"Wait!" Hama started, surprised by the voice for a moment before she realized that the voice was her own.

The scholar turned back to Hama, ink-stained hands shifting slightly to hold onto the vellum-wrapped documents more securely.

"What is your name?" Hama managed to ask, ashamed at having neglected to ask upon first meeting the messenger.

The healer – for that was what the redhead unmistakably was now in spite of her strange garbs – blinked in surprise and simply stared, her blue-green, strangely non-organic clothes rustling for another moment before settling. The woman, to Hama's amazement, seemed genuinely shocked by the simple question!

"My… name?" the redhead echoed, apparently unsure how to respond.

Hama nodded firmly and once more saw, to her surprise, what Hama's powers had steadfastly refused to allow her to see for the past twelve hours: what the redhead actually physically looked like, the woman who had entered the temple the previous evening.

"I have been called, on occasion, Sif," she said after careful consideration, "in memory of another who, I am told, I resemble greatly in certain ways. Some find that exceedingly ironic considering my past, and I'm pretty sure that I only got called that the first time because someone was too drunk to tell that my hair is not gold, but I answer to that name as well as any."

Hama locked eyes with the other woman; unsure of what she expected to see there, but on some level she found what she sought for she found herself breaking eye contact to bow deeply.

The world seemed to stop. Hama could hear nothing but the beating of her heart and the suddenly loud roaring of her breathing. She unbent herself.

'Sif' looked at Hama in confusion, not understanding the reason for the gesture of respect.

"Thank you, Sif," Ivan's sister said quietly.

"For what?" 'Sif' queried. "I've not done anything special. I mean, I'm the best at what I do, but I don't do any more than what anyone else would do in my place. There's no reason to bow to me for bringing you a message at top speed."

Hama could not help herself; she burst into a fit of giggles (because people of her station did NOT laugh until they cried) brought on by insomnia and nerves and the sheer ridiculousness of the statement.

"Master Hama?" prodded the-being-occasionally-called-Sif. "Are you well?"

Quickly regaining control of herself, the Jupiter adept reassured her companion.

"Thank you," Hama said. "Thank you for everything. But most of all, thank you for being yourself. If you need anything, just ask. No one should have to do everything alone."

-tempusnonfugit-

"Seers. Pfeh." The man exhaled in exasperation. "If there's one thing I still don't understand after all of this time, its seers. Why do they do that? One moment I'm talking to one, and the next they're acting all weird."

The Wise One managed to keep a straight face, mostly because there was little 'face' to speak of.

"And they never say why! I've never claimed to be omniscient!"

The Wise One's eye twitched in amusement and interjected.

"What about the time-"

The man cut the entity off.

"I lost a bet. It was just for a few hours. I'm never doing it again." He spoke rapidly, and returned to his rant. "This one just about burst into laughter when I asked! And thanked me! What does she have to thank me for? I've never so much as spoken to her before!"

"Ranma," the Wise One resonated, interrupting the man's speech.

"What?" said the former martial artist.

"Never change," the philosopher's stone said, before beginning to float up towards the erupting peak of Mt. Aleph.

"Not you too! You know what this is about, don't you! Tell me, already!"

The hovering boulder did not do so, instead merely throwing a comment Ranma's way as it left the warrior's sight.

"And really, 'Sif'? Why 'Sif'? You must be getting sentimental in your old age."

"Oh, shut up!" Ranma yelled back. "At least I actually gave a name, 'Wise One'," he grumbled, but he smiled slightly as he did so.

The Wise One did not answer.


	8. Chapter 8: The Differences Between Us

Chapter 8: The Differences Between Us

Crack.

In a cave that served as a back entrance to a town of thieves, something changed.

Grind.

It wasn't much…

Silence.

…just enough.

Water falls.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

-tempusnonfugit-

Blow.

In an evil desert that immolated those who dared to cross it, something changed.

Shift.

It wasn't much…

Silence.

…Just enough.

Sand flows.

Shhh.

Shhh.

Shhh.

-tempusnonfugit-

"You should be pleased," said the Other. "Small changes, unnoticeable actions, and yet so much good can now occur that was once unobtainable. Only the truly paranoid or insanely perceptive would even suspect your interference."

He/She/It/They/We/One/All/Everything/Nothing remained silent, sensing the mockery behind the words.

"You succeeded in every way," the Other continued. "So why do you shed tears?"

-tempusnonfugit-

In the depths, Poseidon stirred. It would be easily awoken by something as traumatic as the lighting of Venus.

Perhaps it could have been sent back to deep slumber. Only a small change…

But it wasn't.

-tempusnonfugit-

"You do not need to keep going. Let it go. Let the end come as it must," the second Other said.

There were two of them, the Others. They had names, but the-one-who-holds-up-the-world/the-one-who-made-the-world/the-one-who-contains-the-world/the-one-who-can-never-be-a-part-of-the-world did not respect them enough to use those names.

After all, they had the power to give the hope that this old one needed. But even the 'light' Other gave only white darkness.

-tempusnonfugit-

Rocks fall, crushing dreams.

-tempusnonfugit-

Volcanoes erupt, raining fire.

-tempusnonfugit-

A tower rises, light fades.

-tempusnonfugit-

"You are no better than either of us."

"When they wish for miracles, you do not act."

-tempusnonfugit-

The lighthouses are quenched, civilization ends.

-tempusnonfugit-

"You are no better than either of us," said 'light'.

"When they wish for miracles, you do not act." said 'darkness'.

"When they are dying, you do not save them."

"When they are about to destroy themselves, you do not warn them."

"All you have really succeeded in doing is causing yourself pain."

"Let go. Rest. The final battle must occur. The world must end."

"We must finish this Game before we create a new one."

"Let go, or let us in."

"No," Ranma whispered from what might once have been the peak of Jusendo. "I will not fail them in this, in giving them their chance to live. That much I can do."

"Why do you insist on doing this? You cannot protect them from forever. You cannot even protect them from themselves! The end will come. It is written!"

Ranma's eyes snapped open, revealing the glowing fire that saturated the orbs. Ranma's fury crackled around him as he stood, the eldritch energy that saturated him sparking and firing, making the air smell of ozone as the very elements comprising it were seared by his motion.

"Then burn the book!" He howled, rending the sky with his voice. "I will not protect them from themselves, but until you two children grow up, I will protect them from you!"

For a time there was silence. Ranma sat once more at the top of the mountain.

"This means nothing," send an Other. "You cannot change the outcome."

"I can try," Ranma whispered, voice carried towards forever by the spectrum wind, the only breeze left on what was left of a world. The wind on the other side of death. "And if I cannot change the outcome…"

Ranma's eyes closed.

"…I will change the world."


	9. Chapter 9: Illusions

Chapter 9: Illusions

It was not a dark and stormy night.

It was actually a beautiful night, one of the rare ones that meet those childhood ideals. The air was warm, but not too humid thanks to the gentle wind that tasseled the travelers' hair, rippling their cloaks and keeping it at just the right temperature. It was a wonderful night, without a cloud on the horizon.

And it was driving Iodem insane.

Lord Babi was dying, Sheba had been kidnapped, and he was now rushing to Lalivero as backup for four children! To stop a group of insanely powerful madmen!

It should have been a dark and stormy night, he thought.

That was when he saw the inn.

What the party of five first saw was actually a glimmer of golden firelight. With practiced motions, the adepts readied themselves for combat, but upon rounding the corner they found a building rather than a floating skull.

Garet grinned widely. "Now this is more like it!"

"More like it than what?" Mia asked tiredly. It had been a long day.

"Than the desert of course!"

"Well noticed," Iodem dryly remarked. Garet was an excellent fighter, but he was so different from the rest of the group mentally that his excitable nature made him look far more foolish than he actually was.

Isaac smiled. He never really talked much, for whatever reason.

Ivan was already at the door, seemingly arriving there without crossing the intervening space. Understandable, as from what Iodem had gleaned, the boy was the youngest of the group. He must be dead on his feet after fighting through the desert and crossing the mountains.

The inside of the inn was empty, without another guest in sight. And unlike most inns, this one was run by a single proprietor rather than a family. Nevertheless, the man greeted the five travelers warmly from behind the counter.

"Hey there!" the blue-eyed man called out. "You look like you've travelled a long way! Five shiny disks per bed."

Ivan did not react to the strange phrasing, and practically threw the coins at the pig-tailed man before sleep walking up the stairs, followed by a yawning Garet. The other three travelers looked at the man strangely.

"'Shiny disks'?" asked Mia.

"Well, they are, aren't they?" said the man cheerfully. "Would you like some food? Comes with the rooms."

Isaac frowned, sensing something was off. It was Iodem, however, who figured out what it was.

"Room and board for all of us for 25 gold!" he gaped. "You must be joking! There's nowhere near enough trade coming across the desert to keep you solvent at those prices!"

"Yeah, if I actually bought stuff," the man answered easily. "But I do everything here myself, so any money I get is mine. 100 percent profit."

"But that's so much work! How do you do it?" Mia questioned.

"I do it because shelter, food, and company are all you really need. And love of course, but love is not payment." Mia's eyes widened in recognition. "I provide the first two, and I get the third in return. And I think that that is worth it. Now, about the meal…"

Mia hesitated, but declined as in spite of her curiosity she was unable to identify what had caught the attention of her sleep-deprived mind. The thought slipped away, refusing to be caught. Hoping it would come to her overnight, she chose to rest. Isaac inclined his head to acknowledge the question, but raised a hand slightly in a 'halt' motion and shook his head to politely refuse before following the Mercury adept up the stairs. Iodem turned to follow.

Clunk.

"Sit down and have a cup. You look like you need one."

Iodem turned back to see that the innkeeper had pulled a stool up to the counter and poured some drink into a wooden mug.

"I don't drink," Iodem growled quietly. "Not do any of those who wear this uniform."

"Neither do I," smiled the man. "But there are many drinks that don't contain alcohol, and this is one of them. Come and have a cup, and get your troubles off your chest."

True to the innkeeper's word, the drink did not have the mindbending effects that Iodem despised. It was a fruit drink, light and just slightly sweet with a hint of spice. It did not really taste **like** anything, more it **was**, in the same way that Arangoa Prelude does not sound **like** anything else.

"What do you call this?" inquired Iodem curiously, taking another sip. It was the sort of drink that you could drink all night.

"I usually just call it the house special," the man admitted with a bit of embarrassment. "I haven't found a good name for it, and since no two batches are ever quite the same, I've pretty much given up trying to define it."

"How did you know?" asked Iodem after a moment. He did not specify. The other man did not need him to.

"Experience," replied the proprietor. "The look in your eyes is the look of a man who thinks that he has already failed, yet is obliged to try regardless."

Iodem snorted derisively. "No thinking necessary. I have the unfortunate ability to know when I'm in over my head, and right now I can't even see the surface of the ocean I'm drowning in."

"You aren't alone," pointed out the innkeeper. "That counts for something."

"I won't even be able to fight for our world," said Iodem bitterly. "I just know that, when the time comes, I'll have to stand back and watch and pray that those kids are strong enough to make a difference. I won't be able to even try to change the outcome."

"Then don't try to change the outcome," answered the man easily. "What people tend to forget is that what happens after the battle is usually just as important as who wins the battle. Sometimes more."

The man's eyes might as well have glowed, they held so much conviction.

"You don't need to change the outcome to change the world."

The words crackled and echoed, resonating outside of themselves. They did not do so in the air, where they faded as normal words do, but within Iodem's mind they sung. They chimed like crystal. They rang with truth. For a moment, Iodem's world was made up of those words.

Then the moment passed, as if it had never been.

"Of course, getting the right outcome is better than having only the aftermath and the prelude to concern yourself with, but it is best to take what you can, isn't it?"

Iodem took a long look at the innkeeper, before nodding slowly.

"Yes," he murmured. "I suppose it is."

The other man smiled.

"Refill?"

-tempusfugit-

The fireplace was burning low when Isaac quietly walked down the stairs.

The room was as empty as before, but now that the fire dimmed it was full of long shadows and dark corners. No food simmered on the stove, no voices were audible, and no one was behind the counter. The entire inn was asleep.

Understandable. It was the middle of the night.

Isaac, however, was undeterred by this. Moving with his characteristic quiet purpose, the blond took a seat at one of the tables and waited.

He did not have to wait for long.

"I was wondering when you would come," said the innkeeper from across the table. He had not sat down, rather at one moment the seat was empty and the next it was full. Even Alex's strange ability was less instantaneous than this seamless transition, but Isaac refused to allow himself the luxury of surprise.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

"Why do you never answer?" Isaac hissed in frustration.

The man smiled. "Because you don't ask the right questions."

"And what are the right questions?"

"Better. But that is something that you have to figure out on your own."

Isaac glared at the 'innkeeper,' but his opponent was unfazed. Isaac carefully considered his next move before speaking.

"Why are you here?"

"To speak with you and Iodem, and to let you rest before the next part of your journey."

"What did you need to speak to Iodem about?"

No answer.

"Why do I forget you, but remember what you say? Except that I don't remember you saying it. I just know it. Why?"

"Because it would complicate things. Because I don't tell you anything that you do not already know, even if you do not know that you know it."

"How do you know everything that is happening?"

No answer.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Everyone's."

Isaac sighed in exasperation.

"Why do we always have to deal with everyone's problems?"

"The simple answer is that as they are everyone's problems, they are by definition as much your problems as they are anyone else's."

"And the answer that tells me what I actually wanted to know?"

"You don't have to. Or rather, you do, but you can always try to avoid it."

"What do you mean?" Isaac said.

"It's the principle of the illusion of choice. Basically, you can do almost anything with your power. The more power you have, the more you can do. However, as a stable, well-adjusted, nice person, you understand on some level that you have the responsibility to use that power wisely. Because of that responsibility you find yourself, as an essentially good person, compelled to do certain things and to not do others. You can always choose not to do so, of course, but that is really just an illusion."

"What's the point, then," said Isaac bitterly, "if all of this is just fate?"

"It isn't fate. Why, at any of a hundred times you could have died on the way here."

"But I have no choice."

"You have the illusion of choice, which is actually the same thing. The illusion is the idea that you can take any course of action. And, assuming that the action is physically possible, you can. But when you try and choose which course of action to take, you will find that the number of choices that you are willing to take is far smaller than the total number of possible choices. For example, let's say that you can choose between living a happy, fulfilling life, and going to save children from a burning house. What do you do?"

"I save the children," Isaac said without hesitation.

"You could choose not to," the man said.

"But then… Oh. Right."

"And that," said the man, "is the illusion of choice. Next question."

Isaac's brow furrowed in thought. Then, after a minute or so, he had an epiphany.

"Why," asked the adept, "are you talking to me?"

The man grinned.

"That," he said, "is the right question."

-tempusfugit-

Dawn broke over the camp the next morning mercilessly, awakening the travelers. Getting up and packing away their bedrolls with practiced motions, the Adepts grabbed som food and prepared to leave.

Iodem, on the other hand, just gaped and sputtered.

"What in the name of all that is good is going on here?"

"What are you talking about?" said Garet. "We have to hurry and catch up to Saturos and Menardi! We need to get moving!"

"But… the inn! How did… What happened to the inn?"

"Are you all right?" asked Ivan worriedly. "We haven't slept in an inn since before the desert. Mia, come have a look at Iodem. I think something is wrong with him."

"Just sit here and let me look you over," the healer ordered. "We need you to be rational when we get to the lighthouse."

"What? Not you, too! Isaac, you remember, don't you? Tell them I'm not crazy! Isaac? Isaac!"

Isaac smiled, and looked at the dawn which set the distant tower in silhouette.

The sunrise lit the sky in red and gold.

-tempusnonfugit-

"In the future, you will come to a crossroads of a sort. There, you will have to choose who and what to believe, and what it is that you will fight for. It will not be a choice between right and wrong, but a choice between two paths which are, in their own ways, good, and also, in their own ways, bad. It will be a real choice, not an illusion. Or perhaps it will be the greatest illusion of all."

The man fixed his solemn gaze on Isaac.

"You and one other must choose. And each of you will choose on your own, and your friends will walk the path beside you, facing the consequences of your choices."

The 'innkeeper' smiled sadly.

"I am here to speak with you because you need to know that. And to tell you the other truth you need to know."

"What truth?"

"You can save the world, if all of you stand together. And afterwards, if it ends well, there will be a future to create your own happiness in, and a future for your children as well. A future worth fighting for. Never forget that."

He never did.


	10. Chapter 10: Cups That Run

Chapter 10: Cups That Run

The ground shook and twisted, as if it were a giant trying to break free of its chains. Gilded light arose upon the crown of the Venus Lighthouse, as the continent cracked and writhed from the force of the awakening.

Two figures fell from the lighthouse aerie to crash into the ocean.

-tempusfugit-

"It must be the hormones," Ranma mumbled absently as she swam towards the newly created island, red hair slicked back by the water, carrying the two unconscious teenagers in an awkward-looking, aquatic variant of the fireman's carry. For a normal person it would have been hopeless to try to swim two catatonic people across the stretch of open water, but, fortunately, Ranma's formerly tiny female form had grown tall enough and broad enough in the shoulders to provide sufficient leverage for her muscle mass to bring its strength to bear and, more importantly, do so while keeping the teenagers balanced with their heads above water.

"I know he isn't stupid. But really, jumping off of the lighthouse?"

"Because you, of course, would never do something like that."

"Don't be ridiculous. I jump off tall objects all the time, you know that, Neptune. But first, I know how to do it safely, and second, I'm not a Venus Adept."

"That doesn't invalidate my point."

"Why are you here, anyway?"

"To see you, of course. How does it go again? You never call, you never write, you never visit."

"You normally aren't in the mood for company. And, lest we forget, you live underwater. The ink gets all runny. Besides, talking underwater gives me a headache, especially when the entity I'm talking to has a voice which is horribly good at resonating when submerged."

"You just don't want to deal with the hassle of getting enough air from the water to be able to breathe. Lazy brat."

"In my defense, I don't have gills."

"Or wings."

Glaring balefully at the whale-like being, Ranma decided to ignore the jab and get back to the topic at hand. Or, at the moment, at shoulder.

"He's an earth adept. Why did he think that it was a good idea to jump into thin air and land in the water? He should have known better."

"He is young. At that age we believe ourselves invincible. I doubt he even took the possibility of his death into account before he leaped."

"It's probably the girl. As I said, hormones. Considering what he still needs to do, he'll probably learn to think before acting over the course of his journey. Hopefully."

"Aren't you the optimist."

"Hey, I never said that jumping off was bad, just stupid and dangerous."

If Neptune's face could have formed a deadpan look, it would have. Ranma masterfully avoided looking the being in its rather large eye, and continued to speak.

"And let's face it, the world needs people who are willing to do stupid and dangerous things to help people."

The entity dryly acknowledged the point.

"Oh, and thanks," said Ranma brightly, as she threw the two youths bodily onto the shore of the peninsula-turned-island and put some distance between the land and her.

It was actually a full minute and far more nautical miles than a humanoid should be able to travel in sixty seconds before Neptune was able to question this, mostly because whales are not generally built with speed in mind.

"For what?"

"For helping me jump over the tidal wave," called out the flame-haired powerhouse as she blurred to the top of the leviathan's head.

"You could **ask**, you know."

"If I waited for permission before doing everything, I'd never get anything done," she replied airily. "See you around!"

-tempusfugit-

The water rose in a devastating pulse of kinetic energy, driven by both the earthquake and Poseidon's awakening. Destroying what little stability was left in the eastern ocean, thousands upon thousands of metric tons of water rushed outward from the Sea of Time in one great wave.

If someone had been listening for it, they might have heard a voice full of laughter rise above the water's roar.

It might have said: "Geronimo!"

-tempusnonfugit-

When she walked into Tolbi, everyone's eyes were drawn to her.

There were a number of reasons for this. For one, she was a beautiful woman, and that probably accounted for far more of the attention than anyone would want to admit. For another, she was soaking wet. Not unusual if Tolbi had been a port city, but Babi's kingdom was a good half-day's walk inland at the best of times. Also, she was wearing silk.

Wet silk.

Actually, that should probably go under the first reason.

It was rather interesting to note what the residents of Tolbi failed to remember after the incident was over. Nobody noticed that she was coming from the north, in spite of the blocked pass and the monster-infested sea. No one recollected where she went after the incident. Strangest of all, none of them could really remember more about the woman than her beauty and her rather strangely colored hair.

One thing that the people of Tolbi did remember, and would talk about in years to come, was that she strolled into the city and went to buy an apple from the vendor. She walked straight through the city without a care in the world. Not exactly abnormal, except for what she interrupted: an argument between the blue-haired man known as Alex, accompanied by his two newest quasi-minions, and the city guards.

The argument had almost reached the point of battle, having devolved from questioning the strangers to accusing the three adepts of being responsible for Babi's recent demise. Alex's smug evasiveness had put the soldiers on edge, and the confrontational, almost bloodthirsty 'conversational skills' of Agatio and Karst had not helped in the slightest. In summary, the adepts looked suspicious and had been seen inside the palace just prior to Babi's death, Alex was not denying anything, and Agatio and Karst had quite a bit of pent-up anger after learning of Saturos' an Menardi's deaths. Combat was seconds away. Water floated in streams before Alex, the soldiers had swords at the ready, and the two Mars Adepts had fireballs on standby in their fists.

That was when the redhead walked right between the two groups, absentmindedly braiding her long, wet hair into a long pigtail.

This was so completely unexpected that all of the soon-to-be combatants just stopped a started, gaping, unsure of what to do. The redhead simply continued to ignore them and, after buying an apple from a rather shell-shocked vendor, stood in the middle of the square, eating. In what deserves to be named one of the most awkward silences of the century, no one moved a muscle until she had finished and the apple core had somehow been disposed of. Then the guard captain pulled himself together and, with no small embarrassment, coughed loudly.

Seeming to notice the fighters for the first time, the woman turned towards the soldiers. Steeling his nerves and convincing himself that he needed to attempt to capture the dangerous adepts, the soldier spoke up.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but could you please remove yourself to safety and allows us to deal with these scum?" he gestured to the adepts.

"That's funny," sneered Karst, "I was about to say the same thing!"

Smiling pleasantly and exuding an aura of kindness and innocence, the woman turned to face the three adepts. Upon seeing the readied psynergy, she gasped and moved quickly.

Moved towards the adepts, that is.

Grabbing a bucket from beside one of the stalls, she stuck the open end in front of one of Alex's moving ribbons of water, surprising him so much that she had a bucketful of his water before he thought to reclaim it.

Then she threw the water at the two Mars adepts, who were drenched by the ice water and had their fireballs quenched.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly. "You were on fire! No, don't answer, just stay there, I'll go and get some burn ointment!"

With that declaration, she disappeared in the direction of the stalls, presumably to find an apothecary.

For a moment, the entire street stood there in silence and stared after her, before Alex snarled at his henchmen.

"We're leaving!"

"Stop right there!" insisted the officer. "You aren't going anywhere!"

"I'm afraid that I must agree with my subordinate," Iodem said dourly, reinforcements at his back, blocking off escape routes. "You have much to answer for, Alex. I don't know whether or not you had anything to do with Babi's death, but you aren't leaving until I find out. And regardless, I know some people from Lalivero who are simply dying to talk to you."

By this time the entirety of Tolbi's armed forces was encircling the trio. While they were not large in number (about one person joins per year, generally the Collosso victor) they were all powerful fighters with the home field advantage, and Alex knew it. While the adepts could blast their way out, they would not do so unscathed, and one misstep could mean injury or death. Losing one of the Mars clan members would severely weaken his group's strength, and there would be nothing gained from a victory.

It simply wasn't worth the risk.

Grabbing his two allies, Alex only paused long enough to give a hateful glare to Iodem before warping in rapid hops to escape the blockade.

Iodem's soldiers tread very carefully around their commander for the next week.

-tempusnonfugit-

"…And they kept buying me things! It took forever to make their memories blurred properly, since they were so focused on me! I don't get it," Ranma griped, turning over the next card. "Bets."

The dullahan pushed a large stack of chips towards Ranma, who was dealing.

Thor glared at the headless fae and, after a short period of hesitation, folded.

"This is unfair," griped Ulysses. "He doesn't even have a face! How are we supposed to know if he's bluffing? I guess I fold. And don't come crying to me about that, I've not seen such blatant interference since that bar in Anemos."

"I didn't mean to start a religion." Megaera protested weakly. "It was hot and stuffy in there, so a just took my cloak off and spread my wings a little… –Fold. The pot isn't that big, he's welcome to it– And unlike 'Gabomba,' I'm not keeping it up."

The dullahan collected its winnings and left the table.

"I guess that's it until next time," Ranma said. "Thanks for the advice, Lord Dullahan."

"I still don't know how the two of you talk," Thor grumbled. "See you around cutie," he said as he dispersed in a crack of thunder, courtesy of his hammer.

"Yntil next time, boss!" said Megaera, leaving before Ranma could deny her 'boss' status.

Ulysses, however, was not going anywhere.

"So," said the mage, "as one quasi-human to another, how are you doing?"

"Tired, mostly. I still feel emotions, but I have trouble expressing them. It's frustrating, since I'm making as little progress outside as ever, but I'm not going to give up."

Ulysses scrutinized his patient carefully.

"Well, you're talking freely, which is a big improvement over some of your past depressions," he said, "but when was the last time you slept? Just… relaxed and drifted off? Dreamed?"

"I can't afford to fall asleep. Meditation does the job well enough," Ranma said.

Ulysses sighed.

"Ranma, whatever else you might be, you are physiologically a human. You need natural sleep. The human mind can only go so long without it."

Ranma did not respond.

"Ranma, you're fading. When was the last time you formed an emotional attachment? Knew what year it is? Actually had a gender that you preferred? I wouldn't care if you were male, female, or transsexual, but you're asexual, and that just isn't healthy."

"I'm fine, Ulysses," Ranma said stonily. "Besides, I only need to hold out for a while longer and then by the rules of the game they insist on playing they'll have to concede to me and then I'll be able to rest."

"That's a long time away in immortal terms, let alone mortal ones, Ranma. You need to keep yourself grounded in reality. We're all worried that you'll be broken by this, and we don't want to keep seeing you suffer," Ulysses pleaded. "Please look after yourself, this isn't good for you."

"I try. I really do. But it hurts so much to see them whither. Even the Lemurians… And when I sleep my dreams are haunted by my failure," Ranma whispered brokenly.

"You didn't fail!" yelled the immortal magi. "You did everything you could, gave everything you had, and then you kept going! You succeeded! Weyard is proof of that!"

"A handful. Weyard is a mere handful. I failed everyone else. Even now there are fewer than a hundred thousand people in the whole world. You keep telling me I did well, all of you have been telling me that I saved the world, that I'm some sort of hero for millennia, but I can't bring myself to believe it."

"Do you value the living so little, then?"

"What?" Ranma snapped back, blinking back her unshed tears.

"Every time you become more focused on the dead than the living, you treat the lives that you saved as worthless. Forget the might-have-beens, boss, we need you and, more importantly, we love you. You don't have to believe in yourself, but you do have to accept that you are our family, and we believe in you.

"We've never been disappointed that you didn't save everyone. We've only been disappointed in those who didn't even try. We have never felt that you failed, little brother, even if you're our little sister half the time."

And at that Ranma may have cried himself/herself to sleep, comforted by his/her family, or perhaps the two former mortals spent the time in quiet contemplation. Both had probably happened at some point over the years. Both would probably happen again in the future.

No one ever asked. They didn't need to.

Whatever else might be said of them, they were a family, and although separated by race and time and a thousand other things, they stood together.

That was all they needed to know.


	11. Chapter 11: Trust

Chapter 11: Trust

They all looked at him expectantly. Looked to him for answers. And in their eyes, he saw their desperate hope.

If there had been time, he would have doubted himself, wondering if he, a mere mortal, who had so little power compared to those looking upon him, could actually make a difference, wondering if he was doing the right thing, gambling on the insane chance that his opponents would either follow their own rules or give up their game completely.

But there was no time for doubts.

"The idea is based off of a Mobius strip spatial manipulation…"

-tempusfugit-

"Thank you so much for keeping an eye on Eoleo for me," Chaucha said gratefully. "I've been run ragged lately."

"No problem, ma'am," said the pig-tailed man. "He was no trouble at all. He's a good kid. I just played a couple games with him, taught him a few tricks."

"I have to say, I'm impressed. Eoleo is a nightmare to most strangers."

"I've had a lot of experience with children," grinned the man. "Now, I've got to run along- Hey, don't cry kid! You've got to look after your mom and dad, remember?"

Eoleo, who had been on the verge of tears, placed a look of terrifyingly cute resolve upon his face, a maneuver only usable by small children and fluffy animals. Eoleo liked the man. He didn't treat Eoleo like a child.

"We'll try to fix the boat up as fast as possible, and then we can try and talk with Champa, alright? Stay safe until then ma'am! And practice that game, Eoleo."

-tempusfugit-

The key floated into Eoleo's hand.

Success! Now he could save Papa!

Eoleo liked this game.

-tempusnonfugit-

"Please tell me that you're joking," deadpanned Ranma.

The guardian monster did not audibly answer. This, however, was no barrier to communication, as shown by the subsequent increase in Ranma's incredulousness.

Ranma glanced over at the cave mouth, before looking back at the… whatever-it-was. Nobody had ever dared to ask, in fear that the being might actually answer. It could have been human, but something was just… off about that idea. It certainly looked humanoid, but somehow those robes it wore covered everything in a way that shouldn't quite be possible, and no matter how hard you looked or how much light there was, there was nothing but shadow under that hat except, occasionally, those glowing eyes. It was generally agreed by the various entities that had helped at the End that there was a good reason that it didn't show anybody its face, and that was good enough for them.

"You want me," Ranma said slowly and carefully, as if his words might set off an explosion if spoken to quickly, "to defuse the traps and put in puzzles to keep out nonadepts…"

The entity might have nodded.

"…and leave a bunch of treasure lying around an untrapped area for pirates to find? What happened to hoarding, Star Magician?"

The entity's silence was verbose.

A slow smile grew across Ranma's face, transforming into an excited grin.

"It's still a bit strange, but oh well. Logic is overrated anyway."

He entered the deathtrap, and never stopped smiling.

Ennui was their worst enemy after all. Who was he to argue with the entity's desire for a little change and excitement?

He might even get some fun out of it.

-tempusfugit-

A ship landed on the beach of an island, as the sailors frantically furled the sail in, heaving a collective sigh of relief when they did not hear the keel of the ship scrape itself to splinters upon rock. Having safely beached themselves on the island, the men of the Eastern Ocean relaxed for the first time since entering the reefs and looked around.

On the island, there was a cave.

In the cave, Briggs would find riches.

But for the Champa, money did not mean wealth. It meant hope and survival. When they went home, no one would have to starve.

It would be nice to think that the entity did this for that reason. It was a good reason, after all. But when the entity acted, it played the long game. It wanted something to guard greater than its current hoard, greater than the summoning tablet it guarded, something more, something new.

No one worried about that, though. The entity might well have been considered evil, or at least not quite 'good' in the traditional sense, but no one cared. None of them put much faith in good or evil anymore, not since that time so long ago…

The entity was one of them. So nobody worried. In a strange way, even the Star Magician was a part of their family.

Once, trusting like this would have led to intrigue and betrayal. But now… it was a different world.

And despite the loss of the old world, sometimes some of them, in the deepest parts of their hearts and minds, thought that the new one was the better.


	12. Chapter 12: Of Final Battles

Chapter 12: Of Final Battles

The final day:

"…I assume that at least some of you know the specifics of creating pocket dimensions?" Ranma asked rhetorically, hoping that one of the many eternal beings present would get the hint and explain. Even after having outlived his friends and family, words were still one of his weaker points. Explanations weren't really his thing – something to work on if, no, when, they had succeeded.

Fortunately, perceptiveness was almost a requirement for some of the listeners.

"Of course," shrugged Loki, the Norse trickster… god? Demon? For someone like Loki it was rather debatable. "They have so many uses. First you take a bit of energy and you use it to define the edge of the fold, and then you drop whatever you want to put in there between the edges, and then you pull the edges together. Sort of like closing a bag with a drawstring. Then you seal them with your energy in whatever kind of lock you want, generally so that you can open it easily but nobody else can."

"And what if what you want to store is too large for you to move into the dimension?" Ranma prompted.

Loki smiled, understanding the trick as only a master of the art could.

"Then you draw the boundaries around the object, and close the seal by bending the planes of force. The bending takes an annoyingly large amount of energy compared to the first way, but the boundaries are still surprisingly cost efficient. Since you have to do a three dimensional manipulation instead of a two dimensional hole, it works best with storing relatively thin objects that require smaller folds. A sphere is more difficult than a disk, for example."

"And that," Ranma explained, "is the way we're going to do it."

"Do what?" asked one of the fae.

"Steal the world, right out from under them."

-tempusfugit-

"…I will capture as much of the world as possible within two boundaries of my ki, and initiate the special fold. It will then be up to you to channel your powers into the pattern that I initiate, and complete the fold, making sure to remain inside. The 'world' will then be out of reach until I undo the fold."

"But that won't hold up against their strength," noted Daedelus, spirit of craftsmanship and engineering. "You would be the keystone, and you would therefore have to be left outside for the fold to be completed according to Farindr's Second Law of Spatial Manipulation. You can't be inside the pocket dimension that you create. I mean, you can project yourself inside, but your true body would be outside, and with its death…"

But Ranma shook his head.

"It's unavoidable. There simply isn't enough time to find a better solution. It will work, but…" doubts now. So many doubts. To say this was to change everything, forever. Forever was such a long time… There would be no turning back. No resting, no hope, no seeing loved ones again in the afterlife. To tell the gods and demons and spirits and Great Beasts and entities and fae and immortals and monsters and things-beyond-human-comprehension what the solution, the only solution he could find, was, was to consent to his own doom.

But he would do it. For the children, though none were his or of his blood. For the children, because they were the future. For the children, because above all others they were the ones that he had sworn to protect when he created his code: to protect the weak. For the children…

"…you'll have to use Jusenkyo's power to curse me."

…he would live forever.

Because Ranma Saotome did not lose. Not when it counted.

-tempusfugit-

A man sat atop a mountain, surrounded by entities, some more human than others, who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Or, perhaps, they had everything to lose. There was no difference.

It was time.

(What would you do, if the world was going to end in the next 60 seconds?)

A glow now. Not gold or blue or even the sickly green of depression, but something else. It was the glow of a night that is brighter than the day. It was the eight color of the rainbow. It was the light on the other side of darkness. It had no description; you simply knew it when you saw it. It was will, indomitable and ascendant.

(What would you do with 55 seconds?)

_It delved deep beneath the soil until it was far below the bedrock. It reached far into the sky until it was above the stratosphere. The ki then stopped, steadying itself for a second (52 seconds 'til end-o'-the-world) and then exploded along the curvature of the Earth in two massive, impossibly thin disks, above and below._

_Ranma felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside. But he kept going, had to keep going, stretching his life-force out farther than he, than anyone, ever had before. He had 49 seconds to save all he could._

_Japan caught. Now increase the speed in other directions, an empty ocean was relatively unimportant now, only go for it if there's time. South now. Indochina. Islands. West. Crossing mountains and deserts, reaching for Africa and Europe. North. Mountains. Siberia. Snowy lands and tough inhabitants. Reach farther, faster, grasp the world. He pushed on._

At 40 seconds before Ragnarok, they notice. Those on the mountain felt the gaze of the two rulers upon them. Better than expected, there was a quarter of the world grasped already, more and more being included by the second. The Good and the Evil looked on with interest, but put their faith in inevitability and did not interfere.

_Stretch hard to the North, spreading the stuff of his soul, he followed the plan. This was the fastest way to the Americas, over the pole and landfall in Canada. South to Australia, and East to Arabia._

They realized the truth of it with 36 seconds left. Oppressive power now roared into action, pressing upon the mountain. Thor, like the warrior he was, defended the group from the first strike, a bolt of lightning homing in on the motionless Ranma. Swinging his hammer up to meet the descending bolt, the god was only able to block the supercharged river of subatomic particles due to his area of influence. As it was, he found himself locked in place, unable to dissipate the bolt and defend himself from the hellfire blast that came from below.

Boreas, god of the north wind, countered with the speed and frost of his domain, saving Thor and Ranma from death by immolation. Unlike Thor, however, he was not a veteran of battle, and so Boreas was unprepared for the blast of pure mental force that struck him. He would not have survived without the swift action of Coatlique in administering the water of life. Unfortunately, several heavy hitters were now out of action, as Boreas' mind shattered and he blacked out and Thor was still countering the lightning.

Fortunately, there was still plenty of power floating around. The dragons' elemental blasts kept the skies clear of loyalist forces, and the 'monsters' under the direction of the armored knight Catastrophe eradicated any part of the landscape that dared move to attack. For what felt like an eternity but was only a handful of seconds, battle raged.

_Ranma's spatial distortion was slowing as two-thirds of the Earth was held between the two planes. The effort needed to claim each additional square mile was tremendous as he pulled the life from his cells, playing a game of chicken with necrosis contrary to all survival instincts. He pressed on, running on the fumes of his existence. He had to keep going._

30 seconds. 30 seconds to live. 30 seconds to die.

A runic circle was all the warning the defenders had before the Daimakaicho entered the battle. In any other situation this would have brought despair, but there was no time for that. Despair was the domain of the dead, and they were fighting for life.

So Kirin and Nereid, Yuki-Onna and phoenix, dragon and dullahan, spirit and shaman, god and devil, each and every one of those upon the mountain, all acted without hesitation. They stood between Hild and Ranma and fought for their futures.

Atlanta's arrows flew. Ulysses launched beams of light. Undead Ramses stuck with impunity. The combined might of the future's hope descended upon Hild, and she could not push through.

But with 25 seconds left, their single-minded focus came back to haunt them.

So focused were they upon the ruler of Hell, that when Metatron broke through the air defense thanks to his subordinates drawing the flyers out of the way for just long enough, it was but the work of a moment to pierce Ranma through the shoulder with a flaming sword.

It was not a killing strike, as Ranma unconsciously shifted to avoid instant death, but it served its purpose. Although Ranma did not actually feel the strike, it disrupted the energy flow of his ki in a way that only an empowered weapon of destruction such as that sword could. A pulse of disruption spread outwards.

_Anomaly. He did not know the source, but he felt it. Reacting instantly, he switched from stretching to reinforcing. But to no avail. Swifter than thought, the planes of folding distorted, twisting and turning and crumpling and making waves and hold it together hold it steady hold it all or never get it back…_

Metatron pulled back and swung once again.

"This ends now!" he roared, and brought down his sword as, too late, his subordinates were routed by the fae contingent, led by a heavily armored dullahan.

Shick.

Carrying eerily across the mountain battlefield was the unmistakable sound of a blade sliding into flesh.

Sneering down at the motionless body of the martial artist, Metatron raised his head and stepped away with a grunt, the bloody blade lurching out of the unsuspecting victim's rapidly cooling flesh. He coughed, lungs filling with blood, and stared with disbelief into the sorrowful eyes of Megaera.

"What are you doing, traitor?" rasped Metatron.

"No," replied Megaera, torn and brokenhearted, "the real question is: What are you doing? Because I'm doing the right thing." Turning to the embattled defenders, he shouted over the noise. "Whatever you're going to do, do it now! Hurry!"

10 seconds to go. 10 seconds to rise above both heaven and hell.

There was no way to break free from battle and concentrate. It was impossible to finish the fold. Fortunately, some plans do survive contact with the enemy.

It really shouldn't have worked. How could no one notice that Titania and Oberon were not on the battlefield? There was no logical reason for a dullahan, a messenger, to lead the fae courts into battle. Someone should have noticed… but they did not. And so when the King and the Queen stood together on a rock that had previously appeared unoccupied, none of the attackers were prepared for what happened.

They should have noticed that there were far too many fae. That every type of faerie in existence, big or small, Seelie or Unseelie, was present, and that they were working together in spite of their differences. That making a last stand on top of a mountain, open to the elements and unprotected, was illogical.

The peak had been easy to find and easy to travel to, which was why Ranma had selected it in particular of all the locations in the valley for the meeting, but the only reason for fighting there was that the steep incline served to hide from prying eyes the ring of toadstools that had been forming around the base of the mountain at unearthly speed during the battle.

None of the participants except for Titania and Oberon had been paying any attention to it, as they were far too, but the faerie ring formed regardless, because the faerie ring is formed where the faeries dance.

Battle is the oldest dance of all.

Without so much as a warning, the two greatest European fae poured their vast power into the simple faerie spell with a twist.

For the attackers, it felt as if reality was inverted sideways. The world spun around them, 9 times deisil, and before they could realize that if the world was going deisil then they were going widdershins, they were under the sidhes' power.

In truth, it was cheating, pure and simple. But it technically met the ritualistic conditions (9 times dancing around a faerie ring widdershins) and the faerie queen was perfectly happy to demonstrate the Seelie fae were not above such things when provoked. Oberon was Unseelie. It had been his idea in the first place.

If they had tried to maintain the spell, the loyalist forces would have shattered it like glass. But that was unnecessary; all they need was a few seconds.

And so, with a thought and a gesture, Oberon took great pleasure in sending the enemy demons and enemy valkyries to heaven and hell respectively. Titania focused her will upon Hild, and, taking a different approach, launched the snarling demonness towards the sun at many times the speed of light.

It wouldn't last long. But they only had 5 more seconds anyway.

_Ranma was adrift in a sea of chaos, a storm of apocalyptic proportions. Time had ceased to exist for him as he focused and strained and, against all sense and reason and chance __held__ the entire world, the planes even holding Antarctica. The Atlantic Ocean was also now included, the planes having connected Europe and the Americas in the East-West direction as well. (When had that happened? He could no longer recall.) But the disruption had created waves in the folding planes, which now rippled and tore at the world. More and more often, the plates touched and crossed before separating, the interactions creating rifts in the ground, the water, the air. Whole sections of the world just Disappeared from existence, while others were translocated. Weather patterns were violently interrupted, fault lines tried to rip themselves apart, volcanoes erupted, and the Pacific Ocean was literally split in two by the forces brought to bear there where the plates stopped._

_So many deaths already. But the Apocalypse would be worse. So he held the edges in place and hoped._

Iris was the coordinator. Her power to connect any places by rainbow created the images of the edges of the plates over the pacific for the assembled beings to use. More importantly, as a messenger she had the ability to transfer energy, typically sound and light energy, across the rainbows. Now she channeled magic.

4 seconds. They would only have one shot. Power began to build.

3 seconds. More power!

2 seconds. Channel it. Half and half, for the east and the west, and then half for the top and half for the bottom.

1 second. Grasp. Pull. Bind. Hope. And rest. It was out of their hands now.

0 seconds. Ranma sat alone on what might once have been Jusendo, and watched the world end.


	13. Chapter 13: Healing Hearts

Chapter 13: Healing Hearts

"It was a good effort. But ultimately futile," sneered Hild, although with a modicum of respect for the mortal's attempt. "Now, time to die!"

He died.

And he lived.

"Ouch," deadpanned Ranma. "That hurt. Better luck next time?"

He died.

And he lived.

"Third time's the charm?"

He died.

And he lived.

"You could try disintegration. Or pulling my soul out of my body. That usually works," Ranma helpfully prompted. The response he received was a cry of wordless rage.

He died.

And he lived.

"My turn is over. I've made my move. I've removed my king from your chessboard, and put him on another one, one that you can't touch. So… your move. Do your worst. I've won."

He smiled.

And he died.

And he lived.

-tempusnonfugit-

No one took note of the redheaded female walking through Lemuria. It was a fairly common sight, at least by 'Lemuria time,' so nobody found anything strange about the sporadic visits she made. In many places such a radically different-looking newcomer would be fascinating, but the Lemurians mostly live their lives in a haze not unlike the misty Sea of Time around their home. Consequently, the flame-tressed, blue-eyed, oriental woman came and went without any real notice from blue-haired, occidental natives by the virtue of the logic that since she had done so before and no one could ever remember a time when she hadn't, there was no reason to not let her continue to come and go as she pleased.

Indeed, since she could do a variety of 'cool things' (as the children described them, especially what she called the 'Shark Fist') with water, it was generally believed that she was related to someone in Lemuria, although if they had ever questioned it they would never have found her family.

Honestly, she was like everybody's aunt. Who cared what she looked like? The foreigners were much more interesting than the woman they had all known since their childhoods.

As for the foreigners, they were talking with Lunpa at the moment, and so they did not meet her. Such an unfortunate coincidence. But that was alright, she was here to see Piers.

The Lemurians were not, on average, particularly thoughtful or observant. It was a rare Lemurian who thought about, let alone noticed, that entire sections of their homeland that were underwater and uninhabited. More specific to this case, however, they did not wonder, for example, where the woman lived or what her age was. But they all knew that she would be at every birth and every death, as midwife and speaker respectively. And in the aftermath of tragedy, she was always there for them.

This was no exception.

Piers stood numbly before his mother's grave, unable to think. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, and a leaden weight lay upon his chest. In spite of all his efforts, all his triumphs, he felt like a failure. He sunk to his knees, grief overflowing, but he did not cry. He was a man of the sea. He had to be strong, he could not afford tears.

Slender arms wrapped around him softly, gently pulling him backwards, maneuvering him so that he was supported by the woman's body. Piers did not need to ask who had disturbed him; the woman was instantly recognizable to any Lemurian. He did not look at her, but locks of glowing ember red floated around him, loose hair showing its true length as it waved in the breeze unbound. She smelled of sea salt and mist and loam and marjoram, the spice that could only be found in the old, abandoned parts of the city.

She smelled like Lemuria. She smelled like home.

"I think that, somehow, I almost expected this. It was her time," Piers rasped softly. "But… why does it have to hurt so much?"

She held him close.

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"No," she said quietly. "In time it fades, but… no."

They lay there together in silence. They did not need to say anything else. In the face of tragedy, only so much can be done. Those who live on must find their own answers.

So she held him close, and if there were tears, neither spoke of them.

-tempusnonfugit-

"So few…" he whispered.

"It is better than the alternative," said Megaera softly. "Now they can rebuild, or build something new, even in the face of this. There is hope now. You gave us that. You gave them that."

"Then why do I feel like I've failed? Look at them. They don't have hope. They have disease, they have starvation, they don't have infrastructure or government. The internet is gone, as are all satellite communications. Every piece of electronic equipment is fried, every power plant has shut down, and every munitions store has exploded except for the nuclear ones, and that's only because the fey turned all the radioactive materials into biomass for giggles on the way to Jusendo.

"If they weren't all affected, we'd have war. We lost billions. We'll be lucky to have a hundred million left by the end of the year if things continue to deteriorate at this rate. They-"

"Are alive," Megaera cut him off. "They have a chance. You gave them that. That's what matters."

Ranma shook his head. "I should have known what would happen. I should have experimented more with storing things. I was the one who planned it all out, all the contingencies that I could think of. And I missed the most important part, keeping them safe. Worse, I lost control. The world doesn't match the old maps unless you squint! Everyone else did their parts; I was the one who screwed up. And now the world is suffering for it."

"Was it worth it? Saving them?"

Ranma looked at the angel in confusion. "Of course!"

"Are their lives worth anything to you?"

"Of course they are!" Ranma sputtered incredulously.

"Then how have you failed? The alternative was their deaths. What happens next, leave that to us. We owe you that."

"You don't owe me anything."

"You weren't the only one who could have done this. But you were the only one who did. That's why I'll follow you until the end. You deserve better than what you got for this. You gave everyone a chance at the price of your own. It was our job to protect you. If anyone failed, it was us. Never let Them convince you otherwise, boss."

"I'm not your boss."

"If you haven't earned it by now, boss, I don't think anyone ever will."

-tempusnonfugit-

"Sometimes I feel that the best thing for me to do would be to abdicate and crown you queen," King Hydros said dryly.

"Flatterer," chuckled the redhead. "I'd feel obliged to say 'no'. Besides, the best thing for you to do would be to have some children. Do I need to start scheming?"

"Alas, I fear our relationship must remain strictly platonic."

Her eye twitched slightly.

"That wasn't what I meant, and you know it. And don't ignore me, you know perfectly well that I'm right," she scolded.

"Maybe if you'd accept a job dealing with those old fools, I'd have more spare time?" the king grumbled hopefully.

"The first time one of those 'old fools' got it into their heads to interrupt you during your attempts to ensure the continuation of your line would be the last," she said with mock sincerity. "Such a… youthful… display would cause them to drop dead of shock! But really, they would be just as happy as anyone else, if only because it would give them hope that you will eventually leave your throne to your children."

Acceding defeat, the king stared at his long-time friend.

"Has there ever," he asked, "been a time when you haven't looked after the young ones? I thank you for your aid with Piers, by the way."

Smiling beatifically, the woman responded evasively.

"Sure there has. And it was nothing."

Shaking his head, King Hydros sighed.

"I don't know why you are so stuck on my personal life. If anyone in Lemuria deserves children of their own, it's you. It is a tragedy that you let yourself be satisfied with looking after the children of others. You deserve a family."

"Don't worry about me," she smiled gently. "I've been living like this for longer than you've been alive.

"But today I'm not here to talk about that. I'm just here to let you know that I won't be around for a while unless something happens. I'm going to keep an eye on the kids, so I won't come by until they're done barring an emergency. Can you handle the elders? They seem to be getting, belligerent."

King Hydros grimaced, but nodded.

"Your… brother…" he smiled slightly at the word, "is also welcome you know," he mentioned.

"I find that showing up like this is much more symbolic," she admitted, slightly sheepish at her reason. "Besides, it's traditional."

She moved to the door.

"Watch your back," she said.

"Stay safe," he answered, "and visit soon."

"Sure thing, little brother," she smiled. "Sure thing."


	14. Chapter 14: Rainbows

Chapter 14: Rainbows

"You aren't doing much," commented the strangely dressed man. His eclectic clothing a patchwork of various animal skins and his ornaments of carved bones, teeth, and claws, he made an unusual sight given the preference for simpler, nicer looking apparel amongst the other villagers. He was sitting in front of a small tent-like structure made of animal furs on the outskirts of Shaman Village, staring into a fire. He chewed on his pipe, drawing a deep breath through the tube, and spoke again.

"I know yer here. This isn't peyote; I only smoke cleansers an' 'bacco. I know I'm not hallucinatin'," he mumbled around the pipe, not bothering to speak clearly.

With a sigh, he drew one last puff of herbal smoke and tapped out the bowl of the pipe into the shallow fire pit.

"Better?" he asked sarcastically.

"Much," his companion replied, "but could you at least speak properly? Even if it didn't remind me of my misspent youth, I would still have no desire to give myself a migraine trying to translate what you're saying into normal language."

The man stored his pipe within his animal-hide robes and acquiesced. Both of them had secrets, and knew better than to ask.

"You didn't answer," the future-teller said pointedly.

"Answer what?"

"Why are you just sitting back and watching?"

"If I interfered, what would be the point? This isn't my time, much as it isn't yours, old seer," the newcomer stated tonelessly. "If it gets too far gone, I'll step in. That's how it has to be, interfering only when necessary, or things will only get worse. If they aren't ready, then it would be like handing a child a broadsword."

"Don't let them go north. It's too bad there."

"I won't stop them."

"Then don't make it easy."

"It won't be, but I will have little to do with that."

The strange man sighed.

"Why are you even here?" he asked the newcomer. "There's nothing that you intend to do, so why torment yourself by watching."

The newcomer shrugged.

"I'm just being a chronicler at the moment. If I'm going to be doomed to live like this, then I might as well do something worthwhile. I'll probably put out a simplified version after it's all over."

The future-teller snorted.

"Rule 23," he said.

The newcomer grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," the pigtailed man said. "I should have remembered: 'A story isn't 'all over' until everybody is dead, and sometimes not even then,' right?"

The other man snorted again.

"Oh, get going. After all, waste too much time here, and you might miss something."

-tempusnonfugit-

He sat on the rim of the crater, and remembered. He remembered a city full of hopes and dreams, a great bastion of civilization. Laughter and alchemy and friends and lovers and plans for the future, he remembered it all. Remembered seeing it and standing apart and simply basking in how alive they were. Remembered the city of the Jupiter clan.

Remembered Anemos.

A memory now, of course. To the rest of Weyard, it was as if the Anemos civilization had simply ceased to exist, vanishing into the heavens, leaving behind a few buildings and ruins and a crater. Nobody had questioned too hard, not when they had their own problems, not while the whole world was falling apart. Again.

"They used to pass so slowly, the years," Ranma spoke quietly. "But now a decade is but a moment."

"It happens to all of us," Iris admitted freely, coalescing from the light scattered by dewdrops on the leaves of a nearby tree. "As we grow older, the long-term begins to seem shorter by comparison, and so the centuries slide by."

Ranma took in the sight of his companion carefully, using many lifetimes of experience to get an image of the goddess without blinding himself by looking directly at the condensed prismatic light of the rainbow goddess's aura.

Iris rolled her eyes.

"Just use your eyes, Ranma. There's no need to mess around with aural sensing," she chided.

Looking a little sheepish, Ranma turned to look at the most important member of the nominal 'pantheon' of Weyard. Deceptively normal in appearance, in human guise Iris was slender and of small stature, and seemed only slightly more substantial than a young willow sapling. The robes she wore in her corporeal form were large and flowing, looking too voluminous for her small frame, making her appear even more fragile, almost waiflike. Her features were fine and unblemished; her eyes as clear as the small crystal ornaments that she wore as jewelry.

The trained eye could easily see Iris's complete lack of combat training, and, indeed, she had never been a warrior. But that was a deceptive thought, for it implied a weakness that was entirely absent in here. Rather than a weak whisper amidst loud cries, she was the silence that cut through the loudest of noises. Iris was a diamond in every way. A beautiful crystal.

But hard as stone, and sharp as knives.

And her power was nothing to laugh at either. While not familiar with the field of battle, Iris was dealt a royal flush when she came into her domain of power, although she did not realize it for a very long time. As one of many deities associated with light, Iris had not thought herself any more than a minor goddess. She had not understood the importance of rainbows until shortly before the end.

The reason this was relatively simply, if necessitating some background knowledge to comprehend.

Unlike mortals, deities do not follow a fixed life cycle. Some, such as Athena, went through the process of being born into a mortal incarnation regularly to 'keep in touch' with their constituents. These gods and goddesses would then ascend, obtaining all of their previous existences power and knowledge in an instant upon claiming their mantles.

Then there were the proverbial 'workaholics' who avoided reincarnating, preferring to retain their positions at all times.

The final major group was the one that Iris had belonged to, consisting of those who, rather than being an incarnation of their predecessor, were actual replacements. This could be for any number of reasons, from death to, in one rather unusual and impossible to recreate series of events, the predecessor simply quitting. The circumstances of each case were inevitably strange and taboo to speak of, but all resulted in a new god or goddess replacing the old. The Norns were perhaps the most famous example, as several different Urds, Skulds, and Belldandys (usually named Verdandi or a variant thereof, though) have existed over the course of time.

Iris had taken the name and domain of the previous Iris, and had learned of her domain's influence by way of stories and experimentation. The previous Iris had been one of the more boring and inconsequential goddesses of Ancient Greece, and as a result the new goddess had understandably missed the potential strength she wielded.

Her revelation had, to her surprise at the time, come from a mortal. It was about a month before Weyard, and Iris had found herself wallowing in self-pity and despair in a secluded part of a temple in Africa when she heard one of the leaders speaking. Iris never told the story exactly the same way twice, as is the way of storytellers, but the gist of it was that she heard something close to this:

"A rainbow is a dream, a bridge to nowhere and everywhere. All rainbows are the same at heart and similar in appearance, and so they resonate beyond themselves. Their beauty comes not only from themselves, but from all others. Some are roads and some are doors, but if you open yourself to the truth, you will find that, either way, a rainbow is a connection, much like words are. A rainbow is a path between people, places, ideas, wishes, souls. A rainbow is a unity of pieces, a spectrum of light, a whole that is greater than any single color. Its power is in what it connects, and a rainbow connects all things. We must seek to emulate this in our lives, to be a community greater than the sum of our parts…"

Iris had followed the sermon's words and found truth in them, which she soon turned to her advantage. Always a precise, economical spell-caster, she found that her new understanding removed a self-imposed mental block and came into great power. Finesse and strength combined to make Iris a true powerhouse, and as Ranma had neither been willing nor been mentally prepared to lead the leaderless immortals after the battle, Iris had, after minimal debate, in a surprising display of unity been universally chosen to take charge on the basis of her strength, her calm, powerful personality, and her mediating skills. She was a good woman in a storm, and while some might call Ranma 'boss,' Iris was their Lady and they all deferred to her out of respect.

So it came to be that Iris and Ranma, two beings who had never intended to be what they had become, sat together on the edge of the crater near the settlement of Contigo, pretending for just a little while that she was not in command, that she was not the guide of souls, and that he was not alone, that he did not have to guard the world.

"It's our anniversary today, did you know that?" Iris asked.

Ranma blinked.

"We're dating?"

Rolling her eyes, Iris continued.

"No, we aren't dating; you know that as well as I do. It's been 12,000 years since the battle. Incredible really, to think that back then I could scarcely envision surviving for another hour."

Ranma sighed. He stared across the crater, looking blindly into the distance. Then he side again, and turned back to his companion.

"When did I get so… old?" he asked, only partially rhetorically. "I'm older than the world. I've seen more history than mortal men have ever recorded. I spend as much time reminiscing as I do acting. It's like I just transplanted a mature, intellectual, serious husk of a person into my young body instead of growing up like a normal person. What happened?"

"Time and tears change people," she said softly, lightly placing her hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing wrong with that, especially considering that most would break under far less."

Ranma chuckled humorlessly.

"Don't deceive yourself. I'm broken. I'm just too stubborn to let the jackals know that."

"Then I guess I'm just too stubborn to accept that!" Iris retorted, and stuck her tongue out at him childishly.

Ranma gaped, and then burst out in helpless laughter.

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up mock-defensively. "I won't argue with that!"

They sat together for a while, and talked of nothing and everything. They were friends. They were brother and sister. They were companions who had met on a road on a long journey, whittling the day away with no thought of tomorrow.

-tempusfugit-

"Will you come to the party tonight?" Iris asked. It was mid-afternoon at this point, and their tradition dictated that she ask him at some point before nightfall.

Unfortunately, Ranma's response was also traditional:

"Not if the fae are catering, which they are. I've had too much trouble from simply switching sexes to willingly get a species change by subjecting myself to their food and drink, no matter how good it tastes. I am still technically a mortal, you know."

Tradition also dictated this:

"It isn't that bad. Besides, they'll be on their best behavior."

And this:

"'Best' meaning that they've been planning their tricks since last time. And I spent a month as a female wood nymph before I finally got the potion out of my system the last time I listened to that argument. No."

And this:

"Don't tell me you're scared!"

"I'm not scared. I'm simply expressing a healthy degree of caution and respect for an implacable foe."

And, inevitably, this:

"If I have to go in without your backup, I'm telling Titania that you long for her embrace while Oberon is in earshot. Or perhaps I'll do it the other way around? That could be interesting."

"Wow, I really haven't spent as much time with the others as I should have. I think I'd better go and catch up with them. My friends and I don't spend nearly enough time together these days," Ranma said in a calm voice. His rigid body posture and nervous twitches gave him away, though.

Iris smiled. In many ways, Ranma was the same as ever.


	15. Chapter 15: Helping Hands

Chapter 15: Helping Hands

A scholar, a Mars adept, a Jupiter adept, a Venus adept, and a Mercury adept walked into Contigo.

It wasn't the beginning of a joke. It wasn't even remotely funny. Their business was entirely serious. The one who watched them was similarly somber, and neither spoke to them nor approached them. The watcher watched, and recorded, because nobody else did.

The group soon moved on, heading towards the violet spire of Jupiter Lighthouse. The watcher followed and the watcher stayed and the watcher watched, because at times like these many stories need to be witnessed, even if none are ever read.

A trio passed by Contigo, but did not enter. They, too, were watched.

Another group, four in number, stopped in Contigo briefly. The watcher watched. And went to get a closer look.

-tempusnonfugit-

Isaac grimaced as he walked back to where the group was waiting for him.

"They headed off to the lighthouse this morning."

There was little more to be said. The four of them knew more about climbing the lighthouses than almost anyone. It was now noon, and their previous experiences told them that that meant that Felix and the others had been in the tower for anywhere from four hours to five minutes, and they had no idea which was the case. If they were lucky it would have taken Felix several hours to enter, but more likely than not he was already deep within the mazelike halls of the tower.

It left them with a dilemma. If they pressed on immediately, they would maximize their chance to confront their opponents before the lighthouse was lit. But they had been pushing themselves to make up for the time they had lost in their futile attempts to exit the Eastern Ocean. They had not stopped to rest since discovering the reopening of the waterway at the junction of the continents, and it showed in their fatigued bodies and minds. A rest, even a short one, would vastly increase their combat capabilities. So they had to blindly choose between two risks: the risk of being too late to succeed, and the risk of being too weak to win.

Garet slammed his fist into a nearby wall with a wordless cry of frustration. Mia remained stoic, unwilling to show weakness. Ivan slumped under the assault of his conflicting emotions as he fought an exhaustion more mental than physical.

"Why?" snarled Garet. "Why is it that- that- that we just can't get a break?"

"It doesn't matter," Isaac asserted. "We can't give up now, not when we've finally gotten this close to them."

"But we aren't close," Ivan snapped, his normally even temper frayed. "We're too far away! By the time we get there, they'll be long gone!"

"We'll catch them," Isaac insisted. "We will. We have to."

"Isaac's right," said Mia. "We just need to keep going. There's no time to waste. We just need to keep moving."

-tempusfugit-

Shouldering their packs once more, they continued their journey towards the tower now visible in the distance. Their continued motion, a testament to their inner strength, soon became automated and reflexive. Garet became rearguard and Isaac took Vanguard, while Ivan and Mia took the more protected center positions in their respective roles of artillery and healing. This formation was flexible and well-suited to travel, and had served them well over the course of their journey.

And in a blur of movement, it shattered like glass.

Looking back on the event, the Adepts would agree that what happened was the result of a well-timed grab rather than an all-out attack, but given the circumstances Garet felt that his response to Mia being nabbed on the collar of her cloak by a red-haired, green-skinned humanoid was reasonable.

Fortunately, his speed was as diminished by his tiredness as his perceptions, so Garet's instinctive axe-swing at the sound of Mia's "Eep!" was easily avoided. Further combat was forestalled by the 'monster' speaking:

"And just what do you think you are doing, little miss healer?" 

"Eep!"

-tempusfugit-

"…and when was the last time you slept?" demanded the… human?… which currently had a firm grip on Mia's ear.

"I'm sorry! But there hasn't been time! We're trying to save the world!" Mia groveled. "This is more important!"

The other woman's eyes narrowed and Mia quickly shut up lest she start her captor on another lecture.

"I'm dreaming, right?" Ivan pleaded. "I've fallen asleep while walking. Because if I'm awake, then Mia is friends with the green monster-lady."

"I don't think we're dreaming, but I don't have a good explanation either," Isaac admitted awkwardly. "Hopefully we can extricate Mia from this quickly. I'll talk to our, uh, friend, and-"

"Let go of Mia, monster!"

Garet had had enough.

"That's not very nice," the woman pouted. "You make being a monster sound like a bad thing."

Garet stared blankly at her. "What are you yammering about? Of course it is!"

She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, I'll admit that from your perspective that sounded stupid. But anyway, I'm human. I just have some friends who thought it would be fun to see if they could make my skin photosynthetic."

Receiving nothing but blank stares, she tried again.

"I'm not a monster. I just fell asleep at a party and got my skin dyed green," she simplified, this time avoiding technical terms. She could not wait until the level of education raised again… maybe talk to Kraden later, drop a few ideas for building a university? A thought for later. For now:

"Did you learn nothing from our last talk, youngling?" The woman continued her interrupted lecture. "You make yourself worse than useless if you don't get enough rest."

"We need to keep moving!" Mia insisted. "This is a matter of life or death!"

"She's right," spoke Isaac quickly. "We need to keep Jupiter Lighthouse from being lit."

The woman shook her head emphatically.

"What you need, is to sit down and rest before you collapse. As a healer, I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue in this state."

"We don't have time for that!" snapped Garet. "Move it, or we'll move you!"

The woman raised a delicate red eyebrow and scoffed at the threat.

"I'd like to see you try. Face the facts, a stiff wind could blow you all over right now. If you try to keep going, I will have to stop you for your own sakes."

Ivan's face hardened, and to the shock of his companions the wind adept stepped forward aggressively with staff in hand. They recovered quickly, and Garet and Isaac also drew their weapons. The green-skinned woman let go of Mia, and the water adept joined her friends.

"If you keep going," the woman warned the adepts, "you will be weak, tired, and prone to mistakes."

"Regardless, this is what we must do," said Mia resolutely.

"You've seen how fast I can move, the woman said. "And as a healer I know the human body well enough to take you out before you hit me with your psynergy, kid, and you know it. Are you sure that you want to try this?" Her eyes bored into Mia, who winced, but stood firm.

"What about the rest of you?" she continued, her eyes fixing the young men in place. "Even if you get past me, you will not survive the tower, not like this. You need to rest, to rejuvenate. Are you so set on this course?"

In their silence, the answer was clear.

The woman sighed, shaking her head.

"So be it. I can see that there remains only one course of action for me to take, she said, reaching into her haversack. The adepts tensed, but did not risk attacking blindly.

A small bag landed before them with a muted thunk. The woman shouldered her pack. The adepts slowly stood down.

"There's enough in there for one for each of you. They'll keep you awake and unhindered by fatigue for five hours, but then you'll need to sleep for the next ten or you'll crash."

She turned and walked away towards Contigo, only to be stopped by the inevitable outburst from Mia.

"Why?"

"You can't heal someone who refuses your help. You can't protect someone who doesn't want to be protected. It is one of the dilemmas that all guardians will eventually face. For me, the answer is that if you're going to go and do something this stupid, I have a responsibility to try and make sure you don't die. You'll have to find your own answer when the time comes.

"Just listen next time I give you advice! You have to learn to take care of yourself sometime, kid."

"Yes, ma'am," Mia said sheepishly. "And thank you!"

Then the woman was gone, and each adept prepared for the fight ahead.


	16. Chapter 16: Flames

Chapter 16: Flames

"I fell so… jittery," Ranma complained. "I want to DO something! Waiting around like this is just so **boring**."

His audience cocked his head at the pigtailed man.

"I shouldn't have made them go through this runaround; I should have just sent them straight to the middle of Magma rock. All I would have had to do was move one stupid rock, and they could have just walked right on in to the central chamber. But now I have to wait."

His captive audience snickered at his whining. Captive in a very literal way, as his audience was tied up in chains. The person in question was a small boy, of perhaps five or six years of age, who was currently attempting to free himself by gnawing on his restraints. Strangely, it appeared to be an effective tactic, as, with a ringing crunch, the portion of chain between the child's teeth snapped. Unfortunately for the budding escapologist, this caught Ranma's attention.

"Nice try, brat, but you aren't going anywhere," he remarked, casually reconnecting the links with a small, but powerful, fireball. The boy yelped as he took several thousand Kelvin to the chest, singing him lightly. More accurately, singing his clothes, as, in spite of all common sense, the boy himself seemed untouched by Ranma's 'attack'. Being unharmed, however, was not the focus of the boy's reaction after he had just had a sphere of flames hot enough to weld metal tossed at him by the older man.

"What are you doing? Are you trying to kill me?"

Ranma looked at the boy with half-lidded eyes, his face blank.

"You aren't going to be killed by fire, brat," Ranma explained slowly, condescendingly, to the child. "Are your teachers that incompetent? Or are you just that stupid?"

"Hey, I'm not stupid! I'm only six!" the boy called out indignantly, but flushed slightly in embarrassment.

"You're an immortal phoenix, Saffron," Ranma deadpanned. "You can swim in molten lave. You are reborn from ash. You can, and do, juggle fireballs when you grow up. How could your caretakers have conceivably failed to mention this?"

The child grumbled, but did not argue. Barely.

"Now, if you promise to not run off, I'll set you free. But give me any grief and you'll be unconscious for a week," Ranma warned. A grudging nod resulted in the phoenix-people's god being released to sulk in a nearby corner of the high-vaulted cavern.

The cavern was the central part of the complex that had replaced Jusendo as the home of the phoenix tribe. Jusendo had been… less than inhabitable after the battle, and there had been no time to try to fix it up at the beginning. The phoenix had tried, of course, but efforts had only lead to further cave-ins, and so Saffron, at that point not ascended, had needed to ask for some help relocating. So a group of earth elementals and other nature and rock-associated spiritual beings had hollowed out parts of another mountain and the phoenix tribe had moved in.

Ranma still felt a bit bad about it, really. He should have helped out more, but given the problems that they had been dealing with at the time, he had been more than busy. Weyard had been slap-dash, to be perfectly honest, and they had had to improvise hugely. Things that they had taken for granted, like gravity, had been screwed up because they hadn't been able to bring the core of the earth with them.

At least that had been fixed with unbelievable speed, and Ranma would forever be grateful to his allies for their reaction time then, as that could have gone far, far worse. The sun had taken longer, but that had been less urgent than the problem of the oceans all trying to drain off the edge of the world. The moon had been another thing they had to put together, and setting up the tides on a flat world had been a nightmare. Stars had come later, and they were not real stars, simply bright lights rather than suns with their own solar systems. But at least that had been easy, compared to the rest.

Weather was one of the first things to come to mind. Oh, the troubles they had had with that… how many times had they narrowly averted an ice age? Then there were sea currents to produce, animal migratory routes to fix, the lack of a planetary magnetic field to deal with, winds, seasons, ecosystems… whenever they had thought they were finished something else would come to their attention. It had given them a new respect for those they had fought against, or at least their skills.

But they had learned. Learned to work together. Learned to trust each other to do their parts. Learned to make the world run, if not smoothly, then acceptably. Learned from each other. Learned from their successes. Learned from their failures. Learned that they could make this mad world work.

"You're no fun anymore," complained Saffron. "You don't even pay attention, half the time."

"Yeah," Ranma said absently, "It's hard to focus myself for long periods of time like I have been lately. I'm starting to slip up a little, to lose interest, to let my mind wander." Shaking himself out of his stupor, Ranma became fully aware again.

"What's taking them so long?" muttered Ranma. The phoenix tribe, currently at a size of about a hundred members, was currently in the process of asking Charon for water from the, faithfully recreated, River Mnemosyne, the river of memory found in the underworld. It was one of the few interactions between the various groups that Ranma had never mediated or facilitated, because it took place in the realm of the dead, a place that Ranma could not enter as a result of his curse, 'gained' on the day at the end of–

Unwilling to allow himself to wallow in the place where that thought would lead him, Ranma turned his attention to where the children slept. There were seven fledglings under his watch at the moment, if you included Saffron, and the majority of were already asleep. Four of them were younger than Saffron, and had managed to drift off while attached to an older boy of about eleven years, who had himself fallen asleep after becoming a bed to the winged youngsters. The other older youth was actually awake, but the thirteen year old female had sequestered herself in the records room shortly after Ranma's arrival. She intended to study and had informed everyone in no uncertain terms that she was NOT to be disturbed. While the future lore-keeper had been more cute than scary in her attempts to threaten him, he liked to see that sort of dedication. It reminded him of more innocent times.

"Where did everyone go, anyway?" whined the little brat (Who he most certainly was not tormenting in revenge for past events. Nope. He had gotten over that fight a long time ago, and besides, all of his friends had tried to kill him, repeatedly, back in those days. He was a better person now. The brat was just really, really annoying. And fireproof, so it wasn't like he couldn't take the occasional imploding fireball. Besides, it built character.).

"They're getting water of memory so that you'll be able to remember your previous incarnations," Ranma reminded him. "I've told you that already. Go to sleep, staying awake won't make them come back faster."

-tempusnonfugit-

"I'm getting to old for this," Kraden grumbled, crouching behind a boulder. "I'm not made for these sorts of climates." Behind him, on the other side of his cover, the clamor peaked with a thunderclap and fell silent.

"It's safe!" a voice called.

Groaning, Kraden creaked around the corner, to be treated to yet another heat wave from yet another pit of molten lava, a blast of static electricity, and a disturbingly intact cavern.

"I think I liked it better when you almost caused a cave-in with every battle," Kraden admitted. "It's creepy. At least Aqua Rock had the decency to wait until we weren't looking before repairing itself, but this is just strange."

The object of his attention was a crater that was not so much refilling as stretching itself into a series of cracks and eventually disappearing from sight.

"What's strange about it?" huffed Garet. "It's full of fire psynergy, so it's going to act like fire. You don't see many fires with holes in them, do you?"

It took everyone a moment to process this, but Kraden's chagrin everyone except him seemed to find it logical.

"It really does make sense when you think about it," said Sheba. "There's no reason for fire to act like rock."

"But it IS rock!" Kraden protested. "It isn't fire! It's rock!"

"It's fire that acts like rock," corrected Ivan. "It only pretends to be rock. It's pretty obvious after you figure it out."

"Fire can't act like earth!"

"But it's earth that is fire, and that's allowed," explained Jenna.

"But-"

"Found the exit!" called Piers.

"But-"

"Time to go, I've been here for far too long already," griped Mia. "If only that stupid rock had been just a little closer, we'd have been out of here hours ago! And what did we get for it? I mean, shouldn't you already be able to control fire, Jenna?"

"It's not the same," Jenna insisted. "Up until now I could only control fire that I make using psynergy with any true degree of effectiveness."

"We just need to fire a cannon," hissed Mia. "Why is this so difficult? Surely there's some sort of psynergy that one of the eight of us has that can do the same thing!"

"There isn't anything that's as effective as a magma ball in this case," reminded Isaac. "Anything less would be ineffective against that wall of ice. Jenna and Garet would run out of energy long before they melted through that thing. And the psynergy was just too much of an opportunity to pass up."

"But-"

"Shut up, Kraden," Mia snapped. "I'm hot, I'm tired, and I've been around more lava in the past day than any water adept should have to endure in a lifetime, so don't test my patience."

"But it isn't logical!" Kraden protested. "How can none of you see that?"

"That's it," Mia growled. "I want to hurt something, and you just volunteered!" Conspicuously sharp icicles appeared, accompanied by an arctic chill unnatural to the volcanic environment.

"Whoa, calm down Mia," begged Isaac, stepping in front of Kraden. "He's just an old man, he's not worth it."

"Hey!" 

"Besides, he might actually die."

"Why is that an afterthought?" moaned the aged scholar.

"Wouldn't you rather get out of here than stay in here long enough to skewer him?" soothed Jenna.

"…Fine," Mia gritted out. "Let's go."

-tempusnonfugit-

"What are you supposed to be?" glowered Karst.

"Who cares, it'll be rubble after one strike," sneered Agatio.

"You will not light the lighthouse," stated the Wise One calmly. "Leave now if you wish to live."

"So you can talk," sneered Karst. "But isn't that our line?"

"I think not," sent the Wise One, energy visibly exuding from its form in waves. "It ends."

The world turned white, and then they knew nothing.


	17. Chapter 17: The Old Ones

Chapter 17: The Old Ones

"Will you not stay for the Ceremony of Remembrance?" asked the guard captain.

Ranma shook his head.

"Too much baggage for me in Saffron's past. I may stop by later, but not now."

"Why do you call him that anyway?" the phoenix blurted out, obviously having been bothered by it for a while. He immediately backpedalled. "I mean, you can pronounce his name properly, so why do you say it wrong?"

"It's a habit really, it doesn't mean anything in particular," the immortal evaded.

The phoenix man gave his farewell and his thanks and flew back to his post, and Ranma left the mountain.

If a whisper had been captured by the wind, and if someone had listened very hard, then they might have heard something. It would not have been words, for words whipped away by wisps become the essence of words. They become longings and feelings and hopings and dreamings. But if words were heard, they might have sounded something like this:

"If it means anything, then it is nothing more than a memory, is it? A memory of fire and battle."

And if someone had listened to the essence of words on the wind, they would have found much the same. Or perhaps not. In any case, it does not matter.

After all, who listens to the wind anymore? And who dreams of fire and ice and war?

-tempusnonfugit-

Ranma blinked, and stared into eternity. For the first time in a long time, something was different, to the extent that he did not comprehend it for a few moments.

There had, for a time beyond a normal beings true comprehension, been a rocky, desolate landscape, open to the vacuum of space, waiting for him whenever he opened his eyes. At first it had almost been maddening in its emptiness, but over time he had overcome the crushing loneliness it evoked. The lifeless wasteland had become normal, expected. The World of Silence, as he sometimes thought of it, was melancholy, but Ranma had learned to see the muted beauty of it.

Now though, now there was nothing. No ground, no stars, no Others. Not even blackness met his sight as he floated in a world of nothing.

"Well, this is new," he spoke aloud, expecting his voice to be either muffled or echoing. He was almost disappointed when the sound behaved normally. 'Normal' didn't give much information. "So, then, would the entity responsible for this like to say something?"

There was no immediate response, so Ranma slowly, carefully, collected a glowing ball of energy from the environment, and watched closely. Unlike on Earth, where most free energy came from the ground and the oceans that had brimmed with life, and unlike on Weyard, where such a collection would draw primarily from the 'Sun' (actually a construct of elemental fire and plasma, they really had failed to think an almost depressing number of problems through to their logical conclusions), the oceans, the earth, and the winds equally, here energy flowed from branching streams all around him. It was almost like… a tree. It was a tree, but what sort of tree acted like this, or gave so much energy so freely? Or felt… pleased?

After looking around to see that, indeed, there was nothing revealed by the light, not even ground, he peered closer at his newly made energy globe with a nagging suspicion. And there he found his answer.

"You know, I never got the impression from the stories the gods and goddesses told me that you could take the initiative like this."

There was no response. There was, however, a sense of… waiting, or perhaps expectation.

Seeing that his attempt at conversation had produced no results, Ranma put his hard won diplomatic skills to use. Speaking was, ironically, one of the courses that he had never taken at a college or university during his time on Earth, although he had considered it from time to time as he repeatedly went through higher education under different identities (to think he had once despised learning!) to make sure that nobody figured out that he was aging at such a slow rate. It had never seemed a necessary skill. Finding out that he had somehow been marked as the de facto mediator for every single faction of high-power beings that had fought at Jusendo had been an unpleasant surprise, and he had avoided disasters by the skin of his teeth at the beginning. But he had learned. Like combat, it was all about figuring out the person you were up against.

"But why would you bring me here now, after all this time?

"Why, oldest of the old, you who came before all creation, why am I here?

"What need do you have of me, Yggdrasil?"

-tempusnonfugit-

Felix stood atop the ridge, looking out over the ravine filled with darkness and violet lightning. Even from his position at the foot of the mountains it was impossible to miss.

"When did this start?" Felix asked his companion, the young woodsman Coriolis.

"A few months after you left with Saturos and Menardi," the Proxian said. "The lightning hasn't stopped since then, and the lighthouses don't seem to slow it down at all while they are unbalanced like this. We're lucky that the ground around the lighthouse is somehow reinforced, or we'd be doomed."

"Why though? Why is this happening here? I've sailed across the world, at all the other edges it's still blue! Not some," he gestured at the abyss, "storming blackness."

Coriolis shrugged.

"I don't know and I don't really care. At this point we just have to deal with it. If we're lucky, Agatio and Karst will succeed, and we'll survive. If not… well, we've made mistakes. Bad mistakes. We shouldn't have resorted to kidnapping. It's probably only right that we'd be the first to go."

Felix grimaced, but could think of nothing to say. He put his hand on the younger man's shoulder to reassure him.

"You're going after them, aren't you?"

Felix said nothing.

Coriolis sighed.

"You're a good guy Felix, and I've been proud to think of you out there doing your best, despite everything we did. But you don't have to go. There's no reason for you to help us."

"Why would I need a reason to do the right thing?"

-tempusnonfugit-

**This program requests your aid.**

It was similar and different to the Wise One's telepathy, Ranma noticed. There was no 'voice' to it, no distinguishing features. It was not deep or gravelly or feminine or… well, anything. It simply… was. And it hadn't actually said what he heard, he could tell that. 'Program' was a descriptor that he could understand, with which he had mentally overridden the true meaning with. A defensive mechanism. He channeled the Soul Of Ice slightly, to help him keep his center.

"I don't have enough power to interfere outside of the pocket dimension," Ranma responded. "But what is it that you want?"

**This entity is a source. A program for existence. This being impresses order on disorder to allow life, much as our other half, Niddhog, maintains disorder in order to allow change and growth. From us came users, two of them, for the purpose of action. But they have stagnated, and thereby failed in their duties. They have failed to create.**

"Why are you acting now? It should be obvious by now that they aren't going to act until the 'game' runs out of time."

**We had hoped that your opposition to the current state of affairs would drive them to cooperate and cease their pointless destruction. While the destruction is natural, unavoidable, and important, it is counterproductive to use it as a goal. Our function is not destruction, regardless of whether or not improvement is the ultimate aim. Our function is not improvement. Our functioning is the enabling of improvement. While infinite time is within our possession, relying on such is wasteful, and therefore a time limit was set by us, unbeknownst to them, for them to take back up their appointed duties. That time has passed.**

"But what do you need from me?"

**You already know.**

Ranma remained silent.

**This program will await your answer. There is no time limit on this. You have all the time in the world.**

"There are better choices."

**Perhaps. You are imperfect, certainly. But you have a talent for succeeding regardless. You get results. Your failures are eclipsed by your successes. We could do worse. And as this entity has stated, our function is not perfection.**

"I will consider it. I can't promise more than that."

**Acknowledged. This program awaits your answer.**

-tempusnonfugit-

"Something is wrong."

"Yeah, the elements are really out of balance."

"Not that," said Ivan. "Something else. Something bad. Unnatural." He grimaced. "I think that, this time, not everyone is going to be able to walk away from the battle with whatever is waiting for us."

"Then we'll just have to be careful," said Sheba, "and stay the course, no matter how hard it gets. Everyone is counting on us, after all."

-tempusnonfugit-

"Cybelle, could I speak to you briefly?"

She stood in a jungle at the heart of the world. This was the womb of life, the warm darkness of the earth, encompassing her completely in this place. The flora engulfed her, cocooned her, the sheer LIFE drawing her in to become one with-

Ranma forced herself out with sheer force of will, to emerge, shuddering, in the same position as before. She gasped, emitting a sound that was half sob, half whimper. Sweat drenched her frame, turning her long, unbound, flame-hued hair into earthy tendrils of red ochre upon touching her nude form. Collapsing on the ground she was too exhausted to move as her roots anchored her, seeking energy, digging deep to draw on the strength of Gaia, to bring her to-

Ranma slashed herself free, yowling in pain, in anger snarling a challenge at the trees, claws rending-

Ranma shattered the falling rocks, fighting her way out of-

The marsh sucked at her waist already as she pressed onwards towards-

Thousands upon thousands, the black, shiny carapaces of the ants clashed with the red of her blood as they tore into her-

The massive desert beast burst free of the sand and descended upon her, mouth gaping wide, teeth gleaming. No time to move, no escape, she launched upward to meet it and-

The cold of the arctic waters sapped every ounce of strength, but still she pushed on. Ranma's head burst through the surface only to be buried in-

-Pain-

-Lust-

-Hate-

-Pleasure-

-Fear-

-Peace-

-Love for-

-Instinct to-

-Fight better-

-Push farther-

-Try harder-

-Be stronger-

-Adapt-

-Move faster-

-Learn-

-Strive-

-Never yield-

-Win!-

-"This-

-is-

-my-

-will!"

It ended. Ranma emerged to stand undefeated in the jungle at the heart of the world. Undefeated, but not unscathed, she trembled in psychic shock from the tumultuous assault. In this place that was beyond the physical, Ranma stood muddied, bloodied, and bruised, hair unbound and matted to her, cloaked in vines and leaves instead of silks, wearing bracers of bark instead of metal, bare feet compacting the spongy loam of the jungle floor. She stood battered, but unbroken.

A tear drop fell slowly down her face, a silent lament for what she could never have, never allow herself to have. Cybelle wiped it gently from her cheek.

"And to think," Ranma said chokingly, but not bitterly, "people believe that you are a kind, protective goddess of life."

The Earth Mother smiled softly.

"Children like you spoil me," said the goddess. "So few of my children understand the truth of me, and fewer can accept that truth. Who can love both the bountiful harvest and the plague of locusts? But somehow a few do. And you, you most of all, make me proud to be your Mother."

"Tret sends his greetings," Ranma murmured.

Cybelle hugged her close. "And I thank you for that. But that is not why you are here to me, the spirit of all the battle found in nature on this slaughterhouse of a world."

Ranma searched for the words she needed, reaching for the right thing to say. She had come to this place on instinct, seeking an answer to a question. She now had to ask.

"You have known me longer than anyone else. You've watched me, you've tested me, you've fought me. You know everything I am. So, will you help me?"

Cybelle looked at Ranma sadly. "You can't even say it, can you? Ever since that day, you've been dreading such a possibility. You always felt the ploy itself worked too well. You've done everything you can to not be like them, and now you are asked to replace them."

The Earth Mother sat back against one of the vast trees, and the jungle grew even older, even wilder, if that was possible. The goddess once named 'Mother Nature' looked up at her favorite child and sighed.

"What do you want me to tell you?" Cybelle asked rhetorically. She knew her children's hearts. "You will never get a better offer. It is literally impossible. As for the rest… well, I would hate to lose you."

"I can't return to you, Mother. I am tempted, but there is too much resting on my continual existence."

"All that lives on this world dies. All that dies eventually returns to me, after they pass through Iris's realm. Why must you, you who are closest to my heart, be an exception? But I will not hold your decision against you."

For a moment, Cybelle almost looked forlorn. But she answered the unasked question.

"I trust you Ranma. We all trust you. The only question is whether you trust yourself."

Ranma closed her eyes with a grimace, but nodded.

"I can't decide for you," the spirit of Gaia said, "but whatever your choice may be, you will always find welcome here, in my heart."

"Thank you," Ranma whispered. She met Cybelle's eyes, then looked away, unused to the love she found there.

Staring at the sun can be blinding.

"May I…" she hesitated, "may I… rest here for a while?" she asked, no louder than a breath.

Cybelle smiled, and held out a hand.

Her child grasped it.

And, for a little while at least, Ranma lay sleeping. Battered, but unbroken.

Tomorrow, there were things to do.

But today she could rest in the arms of her Mother.


	18. Chapter 18: Beginnings

Chapter 18: Beginnings

"A miracle."

"What else?" the Wise One asked. "This is a test. Let it be a lesson as well."

"You don't need to. At least, not like this."

"Alchemy was sealed for a reason, Ranma. Man tried to use it to meddle with things that should not be meddled with, and nearly destroyed themselves. To allow it to be unsealed, I must-"

"They'll do. We both know it. Don't lie to yourself about it."

"Why take such a risk?" the Wise One countered. "I am far from omniscient, and I cannot risk the fate of the world on a hunch unless there are no other options."

"And he is not a greater risk?" Ranma said, quirking an eyebrow and gesturing at the small, blue-haired form climbing Mount Aleph. From their position at the summit, Alex was easy to spot.

"Unavoidable, given my constraints. And I have, as you pointed out before, taken… precautions."

The world shuddered.

"Your plans leave something to be desired," Ranma drawled.

A red light dawned in the northwest.

"But I think it'll work out," he smiled, beginning to glow slightly. "Time for me to leave. What you do with blue is up to you."

In the time between light waves, the summit was vacated.

-tempusnonfugit-

They called it Mercury, in part a reference to a half-remembered god, in part a reference to the liquid metal. It was the oceans, the rains, the lakes, the rivers. It was the blood of the world, and it was in the blood of all who lived on Weyard.

It was fluid. It was crystal. It quenched flames. It stored warmth. It was the cold of the end. It was the ender of thirst.

It was life.

It was death.

Water arose.

-tempusnonfugit-

They called it Venus, in reference to the beauty and bounty of their world. It was the fields, the mountains, the valleys, the forests. It was the flesh of the world, and it was where all who lived on Weyard would eventually return, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

It was strong. It was malleable. It fed fires. It provided for those who lived on it. It crushed those beneath it. It grew dangerous and wild.

It was life.

It was death.

Earth awoke.

-tempusnonfugit-

They called it Jupiter, for only gods could rule it and not be ruled by it. It was the clouds, the storms, the lightning, the breezes. It was the breath of the world, and all who lived beneath Weyard's sky breathed it.

It was fast. It was gossamer. It carried stories. It blew houses to pieces. It lifted birds' wings. It wore mountains dust.

It was life.

It was death.

Wind ascended.

-tempusnonfugit-

They called it Mars, for it was the essence of war. It was the deserts, the volcanoes, the will o' wisps, the sparks. It was the light of the world, and all who lived beneath Weyard's sun and stars burned with it in their hearts.

It was uncontrolled. It was ablaze. It warmed the cold. It scorched the weak. It lit the night. It burned the world to cinders.

It was life.

It was death.

Fire arrived.

-tempusnonfugit-

They called it 'alchemy.' The essence of all things.

They were wrong.

It was not alchemy. Alchemy was, as Daedelus once said, the science of the metaphysical. Alchemy was creation, alchemy was destruction. Alchemy, confusingly, was both the study and the practice of manipulating the world through combining the elements. But however you wanted to look at it, alchemy was controlled. It might not always be controlled well, but it always had purpose, direction. Focus.

The 'distilled essence of alchemy' was completely different.

Fire, not flame, but the essence of all that burns.

Water, not hydrogen dioxide, but the essence of things moist.

Wind, not air, but the essence of all that flies free.

Earth, not ground, but the essence of all things that endure and grow.

When they met upon the summit of Mount Aleph, the result was not alchemy. The result was the Golden Sun.

The result was power.

Purposeless. Uncontrolled. Formless. Unstable.

Explosive.

Pure golden light formed upon Mount Aleph.

The Golden Sun rose.

Pure power exploded across the sky.

And all the world could do nothing but watch and hope, as Weyard was cataclysmically changed.

-tempusnonfugit-

Not everyone was there, though. One person in particular, still had a decision to make.

Ranma stared into the emptiness.

**You have decided.**

"Correct." The word was clinical, unemotional.

**What is your choice?**

Ranma blinked in surprise.

"Don't you already know?"

**Yes. But what is important here is that you are at peace with your decision. If you cannot say it, you are not ready.**

"I'll do it of course. There is no reason for me not to, save my own doubts."

**Are you certain? Doubts are important also. You should not dismiss them. If you need time to resolve them, you will be given it.**

"If I had no doubts," Ranma stated bluntly, "I would not be trustworthy. All of my current problems come from people being too assured of their own paths. As long as I continue to second-guess myself, I'll at least be less likely to screw up like they did."

**A good response. Very well. To take up your duty, you need do only one thing.**

The nothingness changed. Ranma stood in a clearing in a forest, a scene perfect in its existence. Every leaf, every blade of grass, every twig fit perfectly in its place. A blue sky with patches of clouds could be seen in places through the canopy of the forest, light being tinted green and gold as it drifted through the leaves. The clearing itself was small, a patch of openness not overhung by the trees only a few yards across.

In the middle of the clearing was a large stone, rugged and weathered, a stone that looked as old as time.

In the stone was a sword, embedded almost to the hilt. It was not a small blade by any means, being almost half a foot wide at the base and, although its pedestal rose no higher than Ranma's waist, the sword gave Ranma the impression that it was almost as tall as him.

"Not what I expected," Ranma admitted. "I honestly thought that you would do something along the lines of painfully shoving the sum total of all knowledge into my brain. Why do it like this?"

**Finality. Importance. The weight of your words when you accepted was felt, but you are a warrior, regardless of whatever other paths you have ventured through. Symbolism is important, especially in such a place as this. This is to… ease the transition. You will not walk out of here with a sword, you will walk out of here with a duty. You are a fighter. This seemed… appropriate.**

"Why the sword in the stone? And why is it so large? I was under the impression that Arthur drew this blade when he was little more than a kid."

**Legends rarely match up to reality. In many ways, the truth of the man known as Arthur is more impressive, if less epic, than the tale. He was no one special, no wizards taught him, no gods took particular note of his birth. He was short, rather ugly, and only controlled a small region instead of a whole country. But he was strong. He was talented. He was a good leader, at least for the barbarians he led. And when his land was attacked, he fought back, wielding a sword as large as himself. And he won. He became a legend. What you see now is the legend of his beginning.**

Ranma walked up to the stone, but did not grasp the sword.

"It isn't Excalibur. That one was in a lake. Which sword is this?"

**Excalibur is the sword of promised victory. This is Caliburn, the sword that selects the king. It is a blade of burden, responsibility, and power.**

"And it has two edges of course."

**Yes. Although only the swordsmen of Asia ever truly appreciated the distinction, preferring single-edged blades, it indeed has two edges. It is not 'real' as you would understand it, and it will not exist once you leave this construct. But, once drawn, it indeed cuts both ways.**

"Most things do. Blades. Love. Hope. Fear. Justice. Power. Vengeance. Ideas. Dreams."

One hand curled around Caliburn's handle. Another joined it.

"They can hurt. They can cut both ways. But that's life. And you know, as much as it hurts, I don't think I'd have it any other way."

The air chimed softly with the low ringing of metal and stone.

-tempusnonfugit-

Tap.

Alex groaned, and futilely tried to move, to escape the deathtrap that the mountain had become. The world shuddered around him, reacting violently to the sudden reemergence of power. If he did not move, then he, like this mountain, would be swallowed by the earth. But his whole body burned with the agonyof exhaustion, every twitch sending-

Tap.

-spears of pain into whatever region of his form that dared to heed his mind's pleas. The ground rumbled and shook, but, being splayed on his back already, there was little more it could-

Tap.

-do to him. For a moment, he wondered if this could have been avoided, if he could have trusted someone, anyone, with the truth-

Tap.

-but he was alone now, and that was that. He had no friends or allies with him to carry him from this place. Anyone could have done that if he had thought to bring them, but now nobody was here to save him when he needed it most. If he could have mustered the energy, he would have snorted and laughed bitterly.

Tap.

To save him! At the moment of his triumph, he needed someone to save him! Damn that rock, that infuriating hunk of inorganic sentience! And that dupe, Isaac…

Tap.

…no, he would not fool himself in such a petty thought. Credit where it was due. Isaac was nothing more than a pawn, and had done nothing to impede him effectively. It was the Wise One who had denied him infinite power, and… what?

Tap.

A shadow fell across Alex's face.

"You don't look so good," he heard a concerned feminine voice say. "Let's get you back on your feet."

A cool wave of healing energies flowed over him. He basked in the sensations, but all too soon the balming feeling was interrupted by a lurch of motion as the woman hefted him into a sitting position against one of the larger pieces of rubble.

She was fuzzy to his bleary eyes, and with the sun at her back the most he could make out of her features was her flame-colored hair.

"So why did you do something so stupid? What would have been accomplished by any of those flagrant wastes of power had you actually succeeded?"

"You… saw?" Alex managed to croak out, his voice starting to return.

"And attacking the Wise One to prove your strength? Proving your power through violence is almost always a sign of insecurity, but to try to take on a philosopher's stone with no knowledge of its capabilities? Hubris seems to be your flaw."

"…flaw? I am-"

"Going to be lucky if it isn't a fatal flaw at this rate."

Alex grit his teeth and glared, but could not muster enough anger to seethe at his rescuer.

"What were you trying to accomplish, anyway?"

"…Power. Ultimate power. I should have been as a god!" Alex burst out angrily, all of his composure gone. He was forced to take a pained breath as his sudden exhalation hurt his bruised ribs. He continued, with less force although with no less feeling. "I should have been able to destroy with a word, create with a thought, but that accursed floating rock ruined it all at the beginning and I never even knew! The blasted Wise One stole it right from under my nose, and then just sat back and laughed at my efforts!"

"And why did you want that power?"

"…Isn't power reason enough?" Alex countered eventually, his eyes averted.

The healer smiled, and shook her head. Gesturing around the devastated landscape, she let the environs give the answer.

"Without a purpose, you will not accomplish anything. Unless you have something to do with power, power is useless. So… what is it that you wish for? To rule the world? To be worshipped as a god? To be revered as a mighty protector? To live forever? To find a 'happy ending'?"

"Why would I tell you?"

"Fair enough. As long as you know the answer, that is good enough. I don't need to know where you are going. If you know your own path, I will be satisfied with that."

Alex gritted his teeth.

"It seems that you still have a ways to go before you are ready for the whole picture. That's okay. You have plenty of time, after all. If you are lucky and skilled and careful enough, you might have all eternity. I wonder, though, will you tire of forever? And will you be able to comprehend this world?"

"What? What are you blathering about? I already understand! How do you think that I alone came to be here? No others could comprehend what would occur when the lighthouses were lit, not even that old scholar, Kraden. I was the only one who understood what it meant, what opportunity the Golden Sun would provide! I understand far better than you, who stood back and passed up on the opportunity!"

"It took me time, too, to get past such things. Although, I do hope I was never so blindly power-hungry. It takes time to understand, and most people die before they get it, most immortals, even. That's life."

"Who are you?"

"You won't remember this, but if it makes you happy I suppose I could tell you."

"What do you mean, I won't remember?"

"You aren't mature enough to play nicely with others, so you don't get to meet the family yet," the healer sighed. "And that means I make you forget. Anyway, I'm Ranma.

"Sorry about this."

-tempusfugitversusinfinitio-


	19. Stories

It has been a long road, and finally I have completed this work. I'm pretty happy with it, but I realize that there is a lot here that a reader might miss. I will take a little time to attempt to remedy this, starting with an explanation of Ranma. But before that, there are a few things for me to say.

First and foremost, I would like to thank those of you who have stuck with me all the way, especially Farmer Kyle, who was helping to keep me going before he even got a profile on this site. I would like to mention in a subtle, non-coercive manner, that anyone who enjoyed this alterverse may want to look in Farmer Kyle's direction at some point in the future, as he has plans (which will hopefully result in publishing) to play in my sandbox, so to speak.

Second, I have a REALLY long unwritten backstory here. You want to write some of it? Please do. For the love of whatever higher powers you may or may not worship, don't hold back. I am never going to write all of it. I am never even going to try. For all I know, this story may well be the entirety of my contribution to this continuum. You have an idea of what happened during my several millennia long unwritten past? Write the story. Think you know what happens next? Go for it. All I ask is that you send me a message so that I know who is writing so that I can read your work.

Now, a not-so-quick analysis of Ranma.

Ranma has a great deal of psychological issues that are never really shown properly in canon. He is insecure, and covers it with a veneer (albeit a thick one) of arrogance. He is skilled in combat but incapable of normal social interaction. He has deep mental scars from his training and many repressed memories. Ranma is not your healthy, happy-go-lucky hero, he's a young man who clings to his sanity and his self-image by a thread. Some of these issues are resolved with time, as he gains a greater understanding of himself. Others linger, and over the course of the years he was subjected to new sorts of pressures and problems. I've tried to show Ranma as someone who still has deep-seated issues, but is not crushed by them. There is a bit of healing throughout the story, but one of the prominent themes that I've focused on is the fact that he has to work through these issues himself. Others can help, but there is no magical solution, and even at the end of the story he isn't fully recovered.

Some authors choose to view Ranma as some sort of hero of justice. Not so here. My Ranma started out as canon Ranma, and therefore began as an insufferable jerk. In the beginning, Ranma is petty, childish, greedy, prideful, ignorant, and generally annoying. Not really the nicest person to be around. He really only had one thing going for him, and that is that his heart was in the right place. Given a simple choice between good and evil, Ranma chooses to do the right thing. Even in cases where he is tempted to do the immoral, he generally comes around to the more moral path in the end. But he isn't really a hero. He doesn't go out and beat up bad guys in the defense of random people, he doesn't go on crusades against evil, he just reacts. He cares about bystanders, he protects the weak, he puts his life and pride on the line for many reasons, but he is reactive, not proactive. If he is a hero, he's the firefighter that runs into a burning building to save a child, not the hero of light standing alone against the darkness. The difference is subtle, but what it comes down to is that Ranma defends. He protects. Although he can crush boulders and throw blasts of energy, he is simply a dependable guy in a storm. You want him on your side, but he is NOT your chosen hero.

But that's alright. They don't rely on heroes any more than they rely on good or evil on Weyard. Heroes exist for the sake of normal humans, not for the people this story is truly focused on.

An observant reader may have noticed that Ranma never used his last name. In fact, for a couple chapters I avoided saying his name at all. This was partly me being sneaky, but mostly it was to show how Ranma had set aside his old identity. He was no longer a Saotome, not because he was thrown out of the clan, but because there was no more clan and, furthermore, he feels as if he does not belong in one. Family is big in Japan, and being just 'Ranma' is an important statement about his lack of identity. Calling himself 'Ranma' instead of 'Saotome Ranma' says that he is absolutely alone in every way that counts in the eyes of the society he grew up in. He is essentially saying that he no longer has a place in the land of his birth, and in many ways this is true, not least because of how Japan ceased to exist in its former state after the battle.

Ranma puts on masks instead, tells people to call him (or sometimes her) various names, and generally confuses the issue of his identity for various functional regions as well. Some of Ranma's attributes and abilities are more than slightly eye-catching, and this has caused him some annoyance in the past, and probably will continue to do so in the future. There are a variety of functional reasons as well. Immortals are interesting, especially to scientists, alchemists, and researchers, and it would be counterproductive to get too much attention when he is trying to stay on the sidelines. He doesn't want to be a mystery, mysteries get attention, and wars have been started over lesser things than the secret to eternal life.

Ranma also has abilities to help with this obfuscation, and knew a few basic memory techniques even as far back as canon events (usually involving the Amazons). Moreover, Ranma is fast. Really, really fast, faster than the normal human, or even a normal adept, could hope to see. Add in the Umi-sen-ken and he is able to achieve transportation capabilities approximately equivalent to the Justice League's Flash. Also, he is not using his real body. I only mentioned it briefly, but the 'Ranma' that people are talking to on Weyard is a mental projection made of solidified energy. Weyard is his inner world, so to speak, and his projection is capable of anything he has the energy to make it do, which is pretty much anything that a human-sized entity could possibly do. Power-wise, his real body is less combat capable (but even more unkillable) as it has very little energy compared to what was expended on Weyard. But, again, his true body is literally unable to die, and that means that if he ever did fight anyone, he is guaranteed at least a stalemate. And after the last chapter, that issue ceases.

Ranma being immortal was pretty much a given, but when I started I had forgotten one of the 'rules' of immortality, that there is always a back-story. I at first tried to just make it easy and talk about ancient martial arts skills or something, but, as you saw in the chapter with Ku Lon, I could only get an extended life span out of that. I couldn't bring myself to be so unrealistic to Ranma as to just go BANG! You're immortal! So, what could I use to make Ranma not merely long-lived, but actually undying?

The answer, of course, was magic. But I needed a good reason, a very good one. Ranma does not trust magic. In canon he seeks it, he chases it, he runs from it, but he never trusts it except when he needs it. I did not know it at the time, but I have since discovered that the plot device that I used is referred to as 'the Godzilla threshold' on TV tropes. Basically, I gave Ranma a situation so bad, that he would push himself beyond all limits, that he would accept and seek all allies, that he would be willing to give up anything he had, because no matter what he lost winning, losing would have been infinitely worse. What did he do to himself? That's a secret. He gave up some things, and in return the universe leaned in his favor. Even now I still do not fully understand the full extent of what was sacrificed, and I'm not sure I want to. The mechanics of the application of the curse involves Jusenkyo, but not a curse from the pools, and that's all I'm going to say about it.

Ranma's skills and abilities are the products of his life and his personality. He is, without a doubt, brokenly powerful, but is severely limited by past events. The different jobs he has had in the past (hinted at in various times throughout the story) are all products of Ranma's basic personality. Doctors, scientists, historians, teachers, warriors, all of these are respected professions, ones that his ego would not be troubled in the slightest by his acceptance of them. These are jobs that leave people looking up to him and relying on his skill, but not leaning on him too much. The one job he never had was that of a leader. Weyard was not something anyone planned for, and they all had to adapt as best they could.

His 'girl side' is something that I threw in about as often as his male form. After such a long period of time, I could not imagine him caring about such things in the slightest anymore, less because he has accepted it and more because of the sheer apathy that comes from being like that for so long, so Ranma's behavior reflects that. Ranma intentionally remains a bystander and does not allow himself to get involved romantically with people, possibly because it could only end with him watching his loved ones wither and possibly because he might have given that up at Jusendo. In many ways, Ranma learned how to deal with outliving people at the Ku Lon Academy of Meddling, and it shows here and there.

One question that some of you may have in the back of your minds, is why did I make Ranma god? In truth, there was no other way this story could go. Ranma cannot get a happy ending. That would require being able to actually end, through the greatest of all human blessings, death. He can't, no matter how much he wants to, because Ranma, whatever else you might say about him, is never going to just step back and let everyone die. He can't. If there is one thing that can be said about Genma, it is that he raised a better man than himself. The only sort of conclusion that I could provide was either one where something horrific happened and everyone died (not what I was going for) or one where Ranma won out over Kami and Hild in a permanent fashion.

I was influenced a good deal by Oh My Goddess here, as one of the biggest ideas is that nothing is absolute, that even the Ultimate Force has bugs in it. There may be a bigger plan, but if there is it doesn't change the fact that from where we stand, we have to fix things ourselves. To put it succinctly, I in no way used the God of Christianity. These were not all-powerful entities that Ranma was up against; these were nearly all-powerful system administrators playing a game of chess with souls. And, as another author once wrote, the problem with chess masters is that they make one fatal assumption: that you are playing the same game as them. Ranma had entirely different goals, played by entirely different rules, and used his opponent's assumptions against them. He wasn't playing chess, he was playing Parcheesi. And that created a deadlock, since he had basically stole all the game pieces and hid them, probably with just a little help from Yggdrasil.

To me, Yggdrasil was the grandpa who went out to some convention for a month, and left his kids and grandkids to take care of his house for him, only to find, upon his return, that they were engaging in a paint war, with half the family trying to paint everything red and the other half smearing everything with blue. He wants it fixed, but they are his family, so he gives them some time to stop and get to cleaning everything up. Only they don't, so he has to go call for some outside assistance. It's a rough analogy, but serves well enough. Ranma was never an ideal choice, he was chosen because he was available and he despised everything that his predecessors had been doing. The goal wasn't to get some sort of perfect entity to take the job, the goal was to get someone sufficiently different that their screw-ups would at least be different from the last ones.

Ranma was the choice because nobody else was right for it. Nobody wanted the job, not after all they'd been through. Ranma was the only one who needed the closure badly enough to accept. He needed to win, to remove his opponents from their threatening positions, waiting for him to slip up. They were his Sword of Damocles, and he needed to be rid of them. So he said yes, because he needed to. Just a tidbit of information, Weyard is no longer a pocket universe at this point. Ranma's made it a lot more stable and real now. Not that anyone on Weyard ever noticed.

Some perceptive readers may detect some issues here that also occurred in Garth Nix's Keys to the Kingdom series. Yes. Yes there are similarities. And when I sat down to read that series as a bit of relaxation after finishing my draft of the last chapter in a way that I liked, I was more than a little irked to find that I would have gotten so many solutions to my problems had I read the books a couple weeks earlier. It is a good series though, and I did enjoy my belated enlightenment.

As for other assorted associates of Ranma, I had to largely extrapolate about them from their jobs and try to make them real. Daedelus was both a call out to the summon from the game and a combination of ideas that I drew from Oh My Goddess and Fate/Stay Night, which led me to ascend a particularly notable engineer to a higher level of existence.

The faerie king and queen, Oberon and Titania, are not actually the same ones from Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I felt that the names were more descriptive than specific, and that the queen inherits the name Titania, while her consort becomes Oberon. This doesn't affect the story at all, but I feel it worth mentioning. The faeries in my story are western European fae primarily, although there are some other types that were around.

There are two types or courts of faeries under the control of Oberon and Titania, the seelie (the 'nicer' ones that probably, but not definitely, won't kill you on sight) and the unseelie (you meet one, you're probably doomed to death or worse). The seelie like children, and they steal them from homes (they give them back to families occasionally if the family is nice, but if not the changeling left in the child's place is going to stay) and generally follow the rules they make themselves. The unseelie don't much care for any of that. The thing to remember about both of them is that their jokes are ONLY funny to THEM. You won't be laughing.

To illustrate my point, these are the guys that invented the Elven Dinner Gambit, as some people call it. It is something that a person well-versed in lore has to deal with when invited to dinner with the faeries. Basically, the faeries will always try to play a trick on you. ALWAYS. But they like to pretend to be fair, or at least some do, so they only play the trick if you put a foot wrong, unless they feel like it. The choice for our hapless mortal is whether or not to eat the food. If the food is the trick, then they are safe if they politely decline to eat. But if the food is safe, then the fairies get… offended if you refuse, and they get creative. You can never tell which course of action is best beforehand. The point I am trying to make is that doing anything with the faeries is a gamble, and sometimes the coin is weighted. These are not your cuddly friends, however nice a thought that might be.

The spell that they used at Jusendo is a form of a contract binding that is applied when a mortal is foolish enough to willingly dance nine times around a fairy ring widdershins (counterclockwise). It is present in old faerie tales. And yes, they really did cheat when they used it. That was sort of the point.

I have, up to this point, failed to focus on several more entities that stand out from the crowd.

Iris is a minor goddess associated with rainbows and messages, especially those passed between gods and mortals. She is somewhat lacking in personality in the Greek mythology, so I had the current Iris be a bit more real. Rainbows are powerful, if only because everyone believes in them. If you wish to know more about her, I suggest rereading Chapter 14, where I spoke about her in a good bit of detail. Further questions, on any topic, should be sent to me directly by PM or review.

Megaera is an angel who has become something more. Neither powerful, nor wily, Megaera gets by with a finely tuned sense of right and wrong that is not blinded by classifications such as 'good' or 'evil', 'light' or 'dark', 'chaos' or 'order'. I had several reasons for including Megaera. First, Megaera is there in Golden Sun as a summon, so I wanted to explain that. Second, I didn't want to give the impression that everyone associated with Kami and Hild were irrevocably evil or anything. One of the themes of this story is rising above such things as 'good' and 'evil' for the sake of everyone. Megaera was my way of showing that not all angels are blinded by light. Megaera feels a strong personal connection to Ranma, more than most of the others. Ranma is not associated with any factions, and acts as a mediator, but if there were a 'Ranma faction' then Megaera would be Ranma's right hand angel. Ranma is not really comfortable about this, but is pretty much resigned to it at this point.

Boreas, Catastrophe, Thor, Coatlique, the Dullahan, and Neptune are all fleshed out using a combination of mythology, popular analysis, my personal ideas, and the animations for their summons or boss battle scenes from Golden Sun. There is not a lot to say about them that a careful reader could not pick up for themselves. I suggest reading up legends if you want to know more. Neptune is, almost by default, mellower and more, well, whale-like, than his namesake. Dullahans, or headless horsemen, are messengers, but this one I elevated to a higher status and made into an unfailingly polite (even if you can't hear him) right arm of the faerie king and queen. For Coatlique, Catastrophe, and Boreas, I did little to work on character and instead focused on how I thought they would function in a battle scenario for their brief appearances during Chapter 12.

Thor is based on modern views of his personality, past events from mythology, and some pondering on my part. He likes to mess with people a little, he drinks a lot, and he is prone to occasional bouts of testosterone-fueled stupidity, but he's a pretty nice guy. To anyone who wonders, no, he is not pursuing Ranma in a romantic way. He does occasionally flirt, but mostly just to try to get a rise out of Ranma. He really respects Ranma a great deal, not only for what Ranma has done but also for the fact that Ranma is capable of throwing him hard enough to leave a thunder god shaped imprint in rock. Not that that would actually damage Thor overly, but for such warriors I think that skill and strength count more than broken bones.

Daedelus was the guy from Greek Mythology that built the wings that Icarus used. That might not sound particularly impressive, but for those who know the whole story it really is. In summary, Daedelus was pretty much the world's best craftsman. A greedy king wanted him to make rings, jewelry, and so on for him for free, and Daedelus said no. So the king started up some blackmail and kidnapping, and, long story short, Daedelus and his son Icarus found themselves trapped in a tower making the king whatever he wanted. Daedelus used scraps of metal left over from his work and wax as a binding agent to make wings to use to fly to freedom. The wings worked, and they escaped, but Icarus got carried away and tried to fly to high and the sun melted the wax and he fell into the ocean and died, leaving his mourning father to finish the flight to safety without him.

In Golden Sun, Daedelus is responsible for the giant golem summon that launches missiles at the opponents. I decided that, since Daedelus was so awesome, he becomes a spirit of technology, engineering, etc. upon his death. This was partly influenced by the heroic spirits of Fate/Stay Night, as the premise is much the same, with a person becoming more than mortal upon their deaths due to their great deeds in life. Or at least the explanation was, I didn't really get into Fate/Stay Night until after I did Chapter 12. I think that originally I used more of the premise for such an event from Oh My Goddess, and evolved from there.

Ulysses was a bit different from the others, as he was the person closest to Ranma in his existence. I used the Golden Sun summons description and went from there, and ended up with an immortal human wandering mage. Unlike the various nonhuman and ascended entities, he actually understands many of Ranma's problems, though not all of them. As a result, he is probably the person that Ranma can talk about his difficulties with easiest, resulting in them having an almost doctor-patient relationship at times. Ulysses will periodically corner Ranma and try to work with him and make sure that Ranma isn't going off the deep end, as shown in Chapter 10. They are more than acquaintances, but seeing each other brings up a little too much in the way of their own issues to be close friends.

Saffron was someone that I tried to push to the side for a while, but as an immortal phoenix person, it was inevitable that he would show up in the story at some point. I didn't really need him, so I didn't want to add fluff to the story by adding him but he was there and he has a strong connection to Ranma's past, so he wormed his way in eventually. The two don't really interact much when Saffron is awakened, Ranma not particularly wanting to relive the past and Saffron recognizing this. Saffron is pretty much the same as in canon, but less unstable due to better upbringing.

Cybelle was something that just happened. I didn't really write it, it just sort of appeared on paper. The metaphysical mother of all life on Earth, her personality and her relationship with Ranma just came to me. Many people forget that nature is a slaughterhouse of violence and death, and Cybelle is therefore more than a goddess of life. Cybelle is a caring mother in her own way, but she can only do so much, and scarce resources produce conflict. This conflict is as necessary to life as the providing of initial resources, and Cybelle is the embodiment of both the more creative and the more destructive sides of nature. Ranma is at the pinnacle of personal evolution, pushing himself beyond limits and adapting to all challenges, and this combined with his understanding and acceptance of nature's duality makes him (or her in that scene) a sort of favored child. There is sadness there as well, as Ranma's sacrifice of his death means that he can never rejoin the cycle of life that Cybelle embodies. Cybelle is not a normal mother, but she loves Ranma in her own way, and Ranma reciprocates in his, and for them that is enough. They are not a normal family, but they are family nevertheless, and who can say otherwise?

I used a great deal of Norse mythology in my work, mainly because of the nature of the fables. The gods there aren't perfect, and they get outthought and outfought all the time by giants. They give things up in order to increase their powers, they love deeply, they take their oaths seriously, and they all eventually face death at Ragnarok, after which humanity is left alone to fend for itself. The connotations fit well with my work, and it also let me draw on more of the Oh My Goddess cast, and more importantly, the Oh My Goddess universe.

The dragons and beasts and other entities are almost invariably summons, characters, or bosses from the Golden Sun games. They are usually lacking in character development, save for a few notable exceptions, such as Tret and Laurel, so I had to make up their personalities as I went along.

There were, of course, some creatures that were present at the battle that don't show up in Golden Sun. These were mostly minor mentions, groups that were there but not really focused on in the story. For the most part, I brought them in because this wasn't just about faeries or dragons or people or gods or spirits, this was about everyone. So if you stop and think, 'Were there Ifrits there?' or 'Did any totem spirits show up?' the answer is yes. They were there. They were fighting. And while I may not have mentioned them all by name or even thought to write of them, they were the ones that made the difference, all the supporters that threw their hopes, their dreams and their magics into the fray without ever being lauded for it.

It's like that in real life too.

I have had a question about what happened to Kami and Hild. The answer? Nothing special. They existed for a specific purpose, and they failed in it and got replaced. They are essentially returned to the dust from whence they came, so to speak. They are nothing more than regular souls drifting in whatever ether exists on the other side of death. They could never show up again, or they could reincarnate with no memory of their previous existence, but they aren't coming back unless there is a specific need for them, and I can't see that happening. If Ranma wants, I suppose that he could see to it that they become regular humans with their memories intact as penance, but Ranma doesn't seem like the sort to do that. Dwelling on the past would be counterproductive, so most likely they won't be getting any special treatment or punishment beyond what they have coming to them in the afterlife.

Some of you may wonder what happens next. Well, nothing really changes with regards to Ranma. He's not going to talk about his ascension, and nobody else will either, as it is a more than slightly touchy topic. It doesn't change who Ranma is, and that is what really matters. Ranma is not healed fully from his past, and he probably never will be. But perhaps he can find happiness. Maybe he will find love again, or maybe he will content himself with watching the world and its stories. Who knows?

The fairy tale ended a long time ago. So, in the worlds of Neil Gaiman:

"And then go home. Or make a home.

"Or rest."

Or perhaps a new story is ready to begin.


End file.
